


The Road Not Taken

by thegraytigress



Series: One Life [1]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Bromance, Domestic Avengers, Family, Fatherhood, Friendship, Gen, Hurt Steve Rogers, Protective Steve Rogers, Steve Rogers Feels, Team as Family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-16
Updated: 2014-12-17
Packaged: 2018-02-21 09:40:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 80,559
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2463710
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thegraytigress/pseuds/thegraytigress
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When a stunning discovery is made in an enemy laboratory, Steve's world changes completely. Now he's faced with a difficult choice that he's never envisioned himself needing to make: staying true to who he is and what he does as Captain America or giving it up to embrace the blessing life has thrown his way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> **DISCLAIMER:** _The Avengers_ is the property of Walt Disney Studios, Paramount Studios, and Marvel Studios. _Marvel's Agents of SHIELD_ is the property of ABC, Walt Disney Studios, and Marvel Studios. This work was created purely for enjoyment. No money was made, and no infringement was intended.
> 
>  **RATING:** T (for language, violence)
> 
>  **AUTHOR'S NOTE:** So I'm writing this with the aim of doing something lighter, funnier (I hope – funny is not my strong suit), less whumpy, and less angsty. We shall see how much I succeed – I'm sure there will still be angst and whump because it's what I do. I'm also sure this idea has been done, but hopefully this will be a bit of a different spin on it. This is the first story of three in a series I'm calling "One Life". It's going to focus on friendship, with the team acting as a family and coming together to support Steve as he makes some tough decisions. You'll see ;-).
> 
> No slash. Healthy doses of Steve and Tony bromance and team bonding abounds. The only relationship is Tony/Pepper. Also, there will be some characters from Agents of SHIELD showing up in this, but not so many or so central to the plot that you need to have seen the show to follow along. This is entirely AU; I'm sliding it in after Iron Man 3 and Thor: The Dark World but before Captain America: The Winter Soldier, and it supposes the Avengers hung out together a lot more after the Battle of New York than seems to be suggested by the Phase Two movies.
> 
> At any rate, you guys are the best, and I hope you enjoy!

Stark Tower was quiet.  It was early Sunday morning, and most of its inhabitants were soundly sleeping.  Most of them.  Steve wandered into the communal kitchen, half unconscious and wishing he’d ignored the sun pouring in through the blinds that he’d stupidly left open in his bedroom.  Too many rushed mornings on the run in the army had effectively ruined his capacity to sleep past dawn, not to mention the serum had reduced his need for sleep to the point where getting up this early really didn’t bother him.  Just for once, though, he wished he could’ve ignored the call of responsibility or duty or _whatever_ (it wasn’t like he had anything significant to do that day) and gotten a few more hours in the land of Nod.

Maybe he was still there.  Maybe he was sleep-walking or dreaming or something, because what he found in the kitchen was too strange to be reality.  “What are you doing up?” he mumbled, squinting and rubbing a knuckle in his eye.

“Morning, Cap,” Tony said.  Not only was their resident insomniac startlingly awake, he was freshly showered, impeccably dressed, and _making_ breakfast.  He handed Steve a mug full of steaming coffee.  “Wake up on the wrong side of the mission?”

“Must’ve hit my head harder than I thought ’cause this can’t be real,” he said, sliding with none of his usual grace onto a stool on the other side of the expensive breakfast bar.  He set the mug down on the granite counter top and scrubbed at his eyes again and scratched his fingers through his mussed hair, wincing when he rubbed over what was in fact a welt on the back of his skull.  He sighed, taking inventory of the damage which he hadn’t had the energy (or inclination) to do last night when he’d stumbled in shortly after midnight.  Aside from a colorful array of bumps, bruises, and scrapes (and a particularly tender swath on his left chest that extended down his hip to his thigh – yeah, now he remembered careening into the side of a brick building all too vividly) he was okay.

“It is real.  But you could go back to bed.  You look like death warmed over,” Tony said.

Steve groaned.  “Too late.  I’m up now.”  He reached for the cup of coffee and took a sip.  It was some expensive roast Pepper liked.  He usually took his coffee black; all the fancy creamers and crazy ways of preparing coffee nowadays (he still didn’t know what the heck the difference was between a machiatto and frappé) were unnecessary in his book.  Coffee should taste like coffee, not dessert.  But he had to admit that whatever Tony had loaded into this cup was good.

A plate was placed in front of him with a heaping helping of eggs and bacon.  Steve was out of it enough to not make sense of it for a long second, and he looked up to find Tony smiling cheekily at him.  “You didn’t cook this,” Steve said.

“What if I did?”

“You didn’t.  I’ve been living here for months and I’ve never even seen you in the kitchen before now.”  That was true enough.  Steve was about the only one of the Tower’s varying inhabitants who cooked, let alone on a regular basis.  Clint and Natasha lived fast-paced lives, constantly on the move for SHIELD even more than Steve was.  Neither of them had the time (or patience) for cooking; honestly, Steve didn’t think Clint even knew how to use the stove.  Tony had never had the occasion (or need) to make himself food, and he seemed ridiculously proud of that.  He lived on expensive take-out and junk food and alcohol, coffee, and energy drinks, and though Pepper disliked his unhealthy habits, she didn’t do anything but complain about them.  Bruce took about as diligent care of himself as Tony did, though he at least was aware it was a problem.  And Thor was interested at least, but he was about as patient, careful, and knowledgeable as one might expect from an Asgardian prince from another world to be.  That left Steve to cook (because he enjoyed it, even if Tony ribbed him continually for it – ribbed him and then ate with pleasure all the food he made).  Stark Tower had beautiful, state-of-art kitchens left and right, outfitted with modern marvels that he had no idea how to use (or interest in using, if he was being truthful), and ingredients a plenty from all over the world.  It was a shame to let it all go to waste.

However, more than Tony’s lack of need to cook, he seemed to have a hard time dealing with anything that wasn’t fully automated and fully able to interact with him on an advanced level.  JARVIS, his bots, and his computer systems seemed to fit the bill, and the Avengers usually, but most people were sadly inadequate.  This wasn’t to say he was cruel or rude or dismissive (most of the time he wasn’t, anyway).  It just took a lot to catch his attention and really keep it.  And unless a major appliance came with a holographic interface and an AI capable of holding its own against his wit, it didn’t even register as “useful” by his definition.

Tony’s grin got even broader and both toothy and cheekier.  “Yeah, but what if I did?”

Steve paused in shoveling some of the eggs in his mouth.  “Then you’d have some ulterior motive.”  Tony’s smile turned positively obnoxious, and Steve groaned.  “Oh, for crying out loud…  What?  What do you want?”

“Well, if you’re going to stay awake and eat the marvelous food I prepared for you, then you have to listen.  It would be rude, and you may be many things, Steve, my friend, but rude you are not.”  The timer on the oven beeped, and Tony whirled and walked over.  He took a pan out loaded with steaming pancakes.  “Come on.  They’re blueberry,” he sing-songed.

Steve rolled his eyes a little.  He heaved a sigh in submission, increasingly certain he was being roped into something he didn’t want and that he was pretty much helpless to escape it.  “Syrup.”

Tony beamed.  “Done.”  He went about buttering the pancakes and pouring an egregious amount of syrup all over the pile.  “So, here’s the thing.  About three months ago Pepper asked me to ask you if you’d do a charity event for Stark Industries.  It’s the big one, where we haul in the most cash for the Maria Stark Foundation.”  Steve’s appetite failed him even with the huge pile of his favorite pancakes being set in front of him.  He frowned, increasingly certain this had been a well-timed and premeditated ambush.  “We have hundreds of people coming.  You know, other CEOs.  People with huge piles of expendable income.  Politicians.  The works.  The last couple of years donations have been running a little dry, and Pep thought, rightly so by the way, that parking you in front of a room full of rich and influential people would win us some brownie points.”

“Are you serious?”

“You know, get the press there, and then these yahoos would look really bad turning down a national icon and war hero.”

The thought turned his stomach.  He was always willing to help, to do pretty much anything for a good cause, and he’d done it plenty of times in the past.  Right after becoming Captain America it was all he had done for weeks, trying to increase morale and sell bonds to fund the war effort.  Since coming back to the world, he’d done his fair share of public appearances and the like.  Captain America was a hero, a symbol to the nation, and the leader of the Avengers.  Despite all of that, though, he didn’t like the attention.  He didn’t like the accolades, the adulation, the reverence, especially in this day and age where reporters and paparazzi alike considered it their God-given right to pry into personal lives and proliferate private information across the vast network of social media as fast as they could and with total impunity.  And he didn’t like asking people for money.  He never had, and he never would.  He was Irish, and he’d grown up during the Depression where holding your own during tough times was a matter of pride.  His mother had never accepted charity, even when they’d been poor, destitute, and clambering for every penny.  Everything she had she earned.  This wasn’t the same exactly, and he knew that, but it still made him uncomfortable.  But he tried not to show it.  “What did you tell her?”

Tony had the decency to look a tad bit ashamed, at least as ashamed as Steve had ever seen him be.  “Well, I forgot about it, honestly.  And then she kept badgering me.  And I kept forgetting.  But I think somewhere in there I must have told her something because she thinks you’re flying to LA tonight.”

Steve could hardly believe this.  “What,” he deadpanned.

“More coffee?”

“Tony–”

“Look, my bad, I know.  I screwed up royally.  But for the love of everything good, please bail me out on this one.  Pepper’s going to kill me if you don’t.  With pain.  She can be evil when it suits her, I swear.  And stuff’s been printed with your name on it.  Programs and posters and tickets, Steve.  Printed.  It’s official.”

Steve made a face.  “You can print all of that again.  Without my name on it.”

“ _Please._   I’m begging here.  You know how much I hate begging.”

“About as much as I hate doing these things?”

Now Tony made a face.  “Ouch, Rogers.  And I made you such a nice breakfast.”

“Tony, I appreciate it.  And I appreciate you’re in a bind.”  Steve winced.  “I just…”  He wanted to complain, to find some sort of excuse to wriggle his way out of this, but when it came to it, there wasn’t one.  At least not a good one.  Not one that wasn’t selfish.  The Maria Stark Foundation was a wonderful thing, and it funneled a great deal of money to important causes like fighting homelessness and feeding the poor and researching cures for children’s diseases.  Steve knew (although Tony never outright admitted it) that Tony himself donated a significant chunk of change from his own fortune to it every year.  That was probably what pushed him over, when Steve really thought about.  Tony cared about this, and it was a good thing, so he could stomach having people fawn all over him and embarrass him and ogle him for a few hours, couldn’t he?

He sliced into his pancakes.  He took a bite and chewed appreciatively (letting Tony squirm just a bit because honestly this was an opportunity he rarely had) before leveling his fork at the inventor.  “Fine.”

Tony’s relief was visible, almost comically so.  His shoulders slumped, like all of the tension was leaving his body, and he gave a dopey grin.  “Oh, thank you, God.  Thank you.  Thank you.”

“But you owe me for this.”

“What, blueberry pancakes aren’t enough?”

Steve cocked an eyebrow.  “The next time Fury wants you to consult on something, you _will_ do it.”

Tony’s jaw tightened, even as he tried to be dismissive.  “That’s dumb.  I already do.”

“ _Without_ complaining.”  Tony’s eye twitched.  Steve almost laughed, but thankfully he didn’t.  “No whining.  No moaning.  No muttering under your breath like you think we can’t hear you.”

“I know you can hear me.  That’s the point.”

“All I want to hear from your mouth is ‘Alright, I can do that’ and ‘Sounds like a great idea’ and ‘No problem, sir’.”

“I’m not calling him ‘sir’.  Nope.  No way.  I don’t even call you ‘sir’ and I’m required to listen to you on occasion.  And if you make me say ‘swell’, the deal is off.”  Steve stared at the other man, entirely serious and waiting.  Tony stared back, analytical and a tad defiant.  And then he realized that Steve meant business.  “You drive a hard bargain, but fine.”

“Fine,” Steve agreed.  Tony grunted somewhat unhappily at that, snatching Steve’s forgotten plate of eggs and digging in himself.  Steve went back to the pancakes, digging into them quickly.  He was famished having missed dinner the night before.  The rushed operation he, Clint, and Natasha had run for SHIELD had dragged them away from New York yesterday morning to Pakistan, and they’d been there, dealing with a nasty nest of arms dealers, for most of the day.  So he had to admit this was nice.  “These are really good, Tony.”

“Yeah, well.”  Tony had the decency to look ashamed again, although it was a tad tempered by his grumpiness.  “I wish I could take credit.  I normally would take credit.”

Steve rolled his eyes.  “I knew it.”

“What?  There’s no way I could cook anything, let alone something tasty enough to butter you up and win you over.  So I had the people downstairs send them up.”  Steve gave him half a withering look and half a knowing grin.  “Hey!  Thank me for hiring awesome cooks.  And at least give me credit for remembering what you like.”  Steve supposed that was something.

“Captain Rogers.”  JARVIS’ calm, even voice cut through the conversation.  “Your phone is ringing in your bedroom.  I believe it is Director Fury.  Shall I answer it?”

Steve set his fork down, groaning unhappily.  Tony didn’t miss his reluctance and displeasure.  “Tell him to stuff it, J,” he ordered.  “Cap’s eating.”

“No,” Steve quickly corrected, offering Tony an annoyed glance.  “Can you answer it in here?”

“Of course, sir.”

A second later, Fury’s irate voice filled the kitchen.  “Captain, I hope I’m not bothering you.”  His tone suggested he didn’t really care one way or another.

“Not at all, sir,” Steve answered, and Tony rolled his eyes at the automatic response and snatched Steve’s coffee cup from the counter.  He took a huge swig.

“We need you back on the helicarrier as soon as you can be,” Fury said.

Someone else might have missed it, but Steve knew the enigmatic man well enough to detect the distress in between his curt words.  His heart sped just a little at hearing it.  “What’s the matter?  The debrief was scheduled for 1400, but I can write–”

“This doesn’t concern your mission.”

“Then what does it concern?”

Fury hesitated.  Fury _never_ hesitated.  “I…  I’d rather tell you in person.”  It wasn’t even an order.  It was almost like a request.  A plea.  “When can you be here?”

Now even Tony looked bothered as they shared a look.  “If I can get a lift out there from Stark, an hour.”

“Make it happen.  I’m sending the carrier’s exact coordinates to your phone.”  And that was it.  The transmission went dead because Fury hung up.

Tony’s brow furrowed in confusion.  “Huh,” he said, leaning into the counter.  He took another drink from Steve’s coffee.  “Wonder what bug he has up his butt this morning.”

Steve grimaced slightly as he slid from the stool.  “Ours is not to question why,” he said.

“Yours may not be.  Questioning why is the tenant of any great meddler, myself included.  Where are you going?”

“To get dressed.”

“But what about breakfast?”

Steve smiled sadly.  “Pack it up.  I’ll have it on the way.”

Tony blanched.  “Really?  Gross.  It’ll be all cold and mushy by then.”

“I was in the army, Tony.  Cold and mushy was the status quo.”

* * *

The helicarrier was off the coast of New Jersey.  That suited Tony just fine.  He invited himself along, and Steve really couldn’t turn him down.  It was his helicopter that was flying them in from Manhattan, so Steve didn’t feel right telling him no.  Tony claimed to be interested in seeing what was bothering Fury so much.  He also claimed to be protecting his “investment”, as he put it, making sure Steve remembered he had obligations for the next day before he accepted any convenient, last-minute missions.  Steve could have argued, but he didn’t.  He hadn’t seen Tony much the last few weeks, what with his running across the world on behalf of SHIELD and Tony busy with financing the Avengers and managing Stark Industries, so spending some time with him suited him fine.  Their friendship hadn’t come easy.  They’d started out on rocky terms, extremely rocky terms, even after the hard-fought victory during the Battle of New York.  As the Avengers had moved from a crazy idea to a definite reality, their relationship hadn’t improved.  They had tried to bury the hatchet, but Tony with his smart mouth and inconsiderate attitude still bothered Steve a great deal.  And Steve knew Stark didn’t think too highly of him, all brawn and no brains, a tool for the government and SHIELD.  They had clashed like lightning, went together about as well as oil and water, and their fights had run the gamut from explosive shouting to miserably tense silence to bitter bickering.  Tony wasn’t a team player and he’d had no qualms about reminding Steve of that and demonstrating it at every opportunity he could find.  Steve was the team leader and its captain, and he’d had no qualms about putting Tony in his place at every opportunity _he_ could find.  Needless to say, it hadn’t been pleasant at first.

Eventually Steve had started to realize that he needed to make peace with Stark, that he needed to loosen his reins in battle a little and trust Tony to do what was right.  And Tony realized he needed to follow Steve’s orders because Steve did have brains – a lot of them in fact – and he knew what he was talking about.  Their disagreements had affected the entire team, putting the others who were caught in the middle on edge and leaving them with the ugly prospect of choosing sides.  That wasn’t right, and they minute they had both recognized it, the vitriol had died to tension and toleration.  And there were other things that had made it hard.  Things like Tony’s trust issues and commitment issues and unending case of PTSD.  Things like the fact that Steve had no one and knew nothing about this new world, his own case of PTSD notwithstanding.  Things like Tony’s unhappiness concerning his father and Steve’s friendship and admiration for the late Howard Stark.  Things like the fact that they were polar opposites in pretty much every sense of the term, with Tony loud-mouthed, temperamental, and extravagant, and Steve quiet, steady, and simple.  Once they realized they complemented each other rather than detracted from each other, those things began to fall away.  And they realized that they were alike, too.  Stubborn.  Proud.  Brave and strong and willing to do anything and everything to save lives and keep people safe.  Willing to sacrifice anything to do the right thing.

After that epiphany, that they could get along if they just let it happen, everything fell into place.  The Avengers went from a group of disparate and dangerous misfits to a well-oiled machine.  Tony was the brains and the money behind them.  Steve was the strength, the glue that held everyone together and smoothed over the rough edges, the heart of them.  Those difficult months and fights had melted away and left them friends (unbelievably and against all odds), and they’d been that way since.  Tony still teased Steve all the time, of course.  And Steve still put Tony in his place once in a while.  But Tony was the one who taught Steve how to use a computer, how to navigate the internet, how to survive in this fast-paced, high-tech world.  And Steve was the one who taught Tony to trust again, to believe in other people.  They respected each other.  Tony was the one who pulled Steve from his grief on days when it got too strong.  Steve was the one who reminded Tony that he could respect the past without letting it dictate his future.  And they all lived together, Clint and Natasha and Bruce and Steve and Tony and even Thor on occasion.  They worked together, got hurt together and picked each other back up, even played together sometimes.  Somehow the Avengers had become an odd sort of family.

Clint kept joking that Tony and Steve were their parents.  He insisted that Stark was the father because Steve wore tights.  Needless to say, Captain America’s new uniform, trimmed in red and loaded with “awesome sauce” as Tony put it, didn’t have tights.

“Pepper’s gonna want to get your measurements when we get back,” Tony said casually as they strolled from the flight deck toward the bridge of the helicarrier.  “She’s sending up the tailor.”

“What?  This is black-tie?” Steve said.

Tony shrugged.  “Yeah, what did you expect?”

Steve groaned inwardly, pushing open the heavy airlock door for Tony.  Nothing made him more uncomfortable than a tuxedo.  Strike that.  Nothing made him more uncomfortable than a tuxedo and _wearing it_ in front of hundreds of rich, influential strangers.  He still wasn’t accustomed to the attention he got, and not just because of what he did and how he looked. Captain America could function in front of the cameras well enough, but Steve Rogers sometimes still felt like a skinny kid from the Brooklyn of seven decades ago who was more than capable of making a fool of himself.  “Anything else you want to tell me about this?”

Tony winced a little, jabbing his hands into the pockets of his expensive jeans.  “Speech?”

“No.”

“Yes?”

“I don’t have time to write anything.”

“It’s done already.  Besides, you’re awesome at speeches.  Truth and justice and the American way.  Fighting for liberty and waging war on poverty.  Give us your money.”

“I’m not going to say that.”

“You are indeed.  You already agreed to participate.  If you wanted to negotiate the details, you should have thought of that beforehand.”

They worked their way through the busy corridors of the helicarrier, the biometric scanners picking up their identities as they passed checkpoints.  “ _Anything_ else?” Steve asked.

Tony smiled toothily.  “Bachelor auction?”

_“What?”_

“Just kidding.”

They ran into Agent Sitwell before they reached the elevator to go up to the bridge.  The man looked… troubled.  Like he wanted to say something but couldn’t.  Or shouldn’t.  Steve didn’t know him well enough to discern which.  Obviously he’d been waiting for them.  “Captain.  Mr. Stark,” he greeted.

Tony seemed a little surprised.  “You’re looking piqued.  What’s up?”

Sitwell afforded Tony only an irate glance.  Tony was a consultant for SHIELD, which meant he wasn’t really within the organization like Steve, Natasha, and Clint were.  He had a vastly reduced security clearance (though he bragged all the time he didn’t need a username and password to get his hands on information if he really wanted it).  The other higher-ups, senior agents and key personnel, disliked Stark because he posed a risk, and they all knew it.  Tony was rich, and he was powerful.  His tech and resources were invaluable, both to the Avengers and to SHIELD.  If he pulled away from something, it wasn’t going forward.  Everyone knew it.  So most people treaded lightly around him.

Sitwell looked back to Steve.  “Director Fury wants to speak with you, Captain.  It might be best if he did in private.”

This was very unlike SHIELD.  Steve had no love for lying and manipulation, but he knew those tactics had their purposes in the business of international espionage and world security.  Still, he didn’t think Sitwell was trying to trick him.  He seemed genuinely concerned.  Genuinely frazzled.  And if Fury was leaving it up to him whether or not he wanted anyone else to hear what the Director had to say…  Well, that seemed serious.  “What’s this about?”

Sitwell looked briefly at Tony again, but it was clear Tony wasn’t going anywhere unless Steve got rid of him.  Steve wasn’t sure he wanted to.  Something about this was wrong.  Whatever was going on had unsettled Fury, and it was cascading through his subordinates.  “I’ll take you down,” Sitwell conceded.

“Down?”

“To the med bay.”

Confusion married tightly with a mounting sense of dread, and Tony and Steve shared another concerned and perplexed look as they followed Sitwell into the lift.  The agent called to the computer to take them to the medical bay, and not long after the doors were opening and they were walking through a quiet and strikingly subdued infirmary.  The medical bay was usually bustling; SHIELD was running dozens of often times dangerous missions worldwide at any given moment, so the need to have medical staff on hand to treat any crisis was paramount.  But it looked a lot like the place was cleared out to its minimum complement, like something was going on about which Fury didn’t want anyone knowing.  “This way,” Sitwell said, leading the two Avengers from the medical bay’s entrance and deeper inside its facilities.  Both Steve and Tony had been here more times than they cared to count; what they did was dangerous, no doubt about it, and injuries went hand in hand with fighting for the world.  Each step ratcheted up Steve’s uncertainty.  Had someone been hurt?  When they’d gotten back last night, both Clint and Natasha had been fine, a little bruised and battered but nothing serious enough to land them here.  Had something happened during the night?  _JARVIS would have said something._   Was it Bruce or Thor?  Unlikely.  Bruce as the Hulk seemed fairly incapable of being hurt.  And Thor was a Norse demigod; he might as well be an impenetrable wall of muscle.  And, again, if something had happened to either of them, JARVIS would have said something.

Steve’s mind was still racing through the worrying possibilities by the time they reached a private area tucked into the rear of the infirmary.  Fury was waiting for them outside a restricted area.  He nodded curtly to Sitwell, and the agent left without a word.  “Cap,” Fury said in greeting.

“Sir,” Steve returned.

Fury’s single eye flicked to Tony, but he said nothing to dissuade the inventor from coming further, like he realized if Steve had brought his friend this far he had no intention of sending him away now.  Fury seemed restless and unsure a moment longer.  “Until we get a handle on this,” he began, eyeing the two men warily, “it stays under wraps.”

“What?” Tony asked.  “The suspense is killing me.”

Fury looked about ready to rip Tony a new one, but Steve raised his hand calmly and diffused the situation before it got any further.  Fury and Tony tolerated each other on the best of days, and something told Steve this was far from that.  “You have our word.”

Fury’s suspicious gaze seemed stuck to Tony for a little while longer, like he was judging the worth of Steve’s promise.  It was coming from Steve, so that carried some weight, but it was about Tony and his level of respect and discretion, so that was something else entirely.  Eventually he must have convinced himself that it was enough because he turned and offered up his security clearance to get into the room beyond.

It was both a lab and a medical area, if the equipment was any indication.  It was dark inside, with numerous large computer monitors adorning the walls and silently scrolling through data.  Fury led them past empty hospital beds and idle workstations to a small, secluded area in the back.  There was another room beyond, but Maria Hill was standing in front of it.  She, too, looked disturbed, and her icy blue eyes softened when they fell on Steve.  That only caused Steve’s nerves to jolt again, and his stomach clenched just a bit further and his heart picked up its pace.  With Hill was another woman Steve didn’t recognize.  She was Asian, older but still beautiful, with glossy, shoulder-length black hair and a very no-nonsense set to her face.  She exuded cold competency.  She wore a SHIELD combat uniform.  “Captain Rogers, may I introduce Agent Melinda May,” Hill said quietly, almost reluctantly.  “Agent May, Steve Rogers.”

Steve extended his hand.  “Ma’am.”

May took it firmly.  Her grip was strong, and not a speck of emotion shone in her dark eyes.  Steve had well learned to read Natasha’s subtle tells to figure out what she was thinking.  He’d even deciphered some of Hill’s.  But this woman was an unknown to him, and much like them, she kept it all under wraps.  “Captain.  It’s nice to meet you.”

Fury came to stand beside them.  “Agent May works with a particular team of ours, one that’s charged with investigating some of the more… unusual threats to come across my desk.”

Steve’s brow furrowed a bit in confusion.  He’d never heard of May or this team, and he had a significantly high security clearance within SHIELD.  “Unusual, sir?”

May folded her arms across her chest.  “We’ve been tracking an 084 for the last few days.”

“084?”

“An object of unknown origin,” May explained.  “In this case, a person.  A boy from Idaho who went missing a couple of weeks ago.  He’s an unconfirmed telekinetic.”

“You mean…” Steve started.

“Unconfirmed.  He was on SHIELD’s short list for monitoring and analysis, but he disappeared off of his family’s farm.  His parents reported it immediately.  We’ve been tracking him across the globe, Istanbul to Nepal to China, and we finally managed to locate him in Tianjin.”

“We?” Tony asked.  “Who’s we?  The royal we or this super-secret team of yours?”

May shared a look with Hill, but Tony’s question was ignored.  That more than anything told Steve there was something more behind this, but he didn’t press it.  He didn’t have time to, at any rate.  May was already going on with her story.  “There was a lab about thirty miles north of the city.  Our data led us there.  We were thinking that the installation might have been controlled by a splinter cell of AIM or that it was somehow tied with Quinn Worldwide.  We’re still not sure who or what was behind the kidnapping.”

Steve wasn’t certain what Quinn Worldwide had to do with it, but AIM he recognized fairly well enough.  Tony did as well, and he looked none too pleased.  His vendetta against AIM was a personal one, considering it had been because of the subversive science group that his house in Malibu was currently at the bottom of the Pacific Ocean.  “You’ve got people hunting down AIM’s connections and you didn’t think to inform us?”

Fury didn’t look impressed with his indignation.  “It’s called resource allocation, Stark.  There are a few other people in this organization who can handle an assignment or two.  And last I checked you made it abundantly clear that you were not my – what did you call yourself? – my servant.”

“Lackey,” Tony corrected, “but you obviously got my drift.”

Steve wasn’t interested in listening to Fury and Tony bicker.  “What was in the lab?”

May glanced between Tony and Fury.  “Children.  Dozens of them.  We found them when we raided the place to get the boy out.”  At Steve’s concerned look, she immediately supplied more information.  “They were all okay.  No injuries or any signs of mistreatment, aside from being scared out of their minds.  Our team’s computer expert is working on finding their parents and getting them home.”

Now the room grew silent again.  Steve looked among Hill, May, and Fury.  That was disturbing, to say the least.  Abducting children like that…  “What about this boy’s powers?  That’s why these scientists took him, isn’t it?”

May nodded.  “Whether or not he’s a telekinetic is still unknown at this point, but we don’t think it’s likely anymore.  They tested him.”

“Just him?” Steve asked.  “What about the rest of the children?”

“All of them.  And none of them seem to possess any sort of powers, telekinetic or otherwise.  Whatever they were looking for, they didn’t find it,” May said.

“We shut down the lab, took the personnel that were there prisoner,” Hill added.  “Some of them have been cooperating.  Unfortunately they don’t know too much, but they’re giving us enough to confirm that someone is looking for kids with extraordinary abilities.  And that that person hasn’t had any luck yet.”

Again, the quiet returned.  It was becoming more and more laden with tension.  Eventually Tony couldn’t stand it anymore.  “So… that’s it?  Then what are we doing here?”  It was a logical question.  Although kidnapping children for experimentation was unforgivable and heinous, it seemed like the situation was already resolved.  There was no need to call the Avengers in now.

May’s face hardened.  “Unfortunately, that’s not all we found.”  She stood aside, letting the two of them see into the lab beyond.  On the other side of a glass observation window, a few of SHIELD’s doctors and researchers were examining something on a padded table.  Steve shook his head, watching but not understanding.

Tony stood beside him, opening his mouth to say something further, but then he closed it slowly.  His eyes widened.  “Is that a…”

It was a baby.  A really young one, by the looks of it.  It was squirming on a pad on top of the examination table, its tiny limbs tucked against its body by a white blanket.  Dark hair crowned a small head.  The doctors turned as the Avengers came closer.  “We rescued her from the lab.  She was born there,” May explained.

Steve still didn’t understand.  “What are you saying?  Why–”

“Steve.”  Fury’s voice drew Steve’s attention.  In all the months he’d worked with SHIELD and led the Avengers under Fury’s command, the Director had _never_ called him by his first name.  “The baby’s yours.”

His?  What did that mean?  That didn’t make sense.  He must have heard wrong, because it didn’t make sense.  It wasn’t possible.  _It’s not possible._   He glanced at Tony, searching for some validation that this wasn’t right – _it can’t be right!_ – but Tony was white-faced and wide-eyed and slack-jawed.  Shocked and lost.  Shocked and lost himself, Steve stammered, “Wh-What?”

Evidently he hadn’t heard wrong.  He hadn’t heard wrong at all.  Fury stepped closer.  He sighed and set a comforting hand on Steve’s shoulder.  “She’s yours, Cap,” he said softly.  “She’s your daughter.”


	2. Chapter 2

Steve didn’t know what to say, so he said nothing for what felt like a long, long time.  His mind was completely and utterly blank.  They were all staring at him, eyes wide and surprised and wondering and silently questioning him.  About what, he wasn’t certain.  His reaction?  An explanation?  Well, he had none.  It wasn’t possible.  He hadn’t…  There wasn’t…  His heart was pounding and a cold sweat of terror and embarrassment immediately broke out over every inch of him.  “How…” he stammered.  Was that his voice?  It sounded as pathetic as he felt.  “I mean, what…”

“She’s your daughter, Captain,” Fury said, like repeating it over and over again would make it sink in.  It wasn’t sinking in.  Not at all.

Steve floundered, shifting his eyes rapidly among the SHIELD Director and the two agents and Tony.  “But… I mean…”  Apparently all sense of logic and coherency was abandoning him, and he was stuttering and stammering like an idiot.  Useful speech was seemingly impossible.  “It’s not…  She’s not…”  He hadn’t _been_ with anyone.  Ever.  He flushed with embarrassment – _why should I be ashamed of that?_ – and wondered what business it was of SHIELD’s anyway.  The only woman he’d ever loved was in her mid-nineties now and dying slowly of Alzheimer’s disease in a nursing home.  Getting over what he’d lost with Peggy had been traumatic enough, and the grief had soured any interest he’d had so far in finding someone in this century.  The team had been trying to set him up over the last few months (mostly Pepper and Natasha), but he hadn’t taken them up on any of their suggestions.  Dating seemed too terrifying and intimidating a prospect.  He’d been awkward and ungainly back in his time.  How the heck was he going to manage in this time when he was like a fish out of water?

All that aside, it wasn’t possible that this baby had been conceived in the normal way.  Was he going to have to convince them of that?  Was he going to have to defend himself?  He knew attitudes about sex and marriage had changed a lot since the 40s, but the mere implication that he’d sleep with a woman irresponsibly and without protection and then let leave her was bothersome, even if no one was really implying it except his conscience.  “I didn’t…  There wasn’t – _isn’t_ – anyone.  I mean, I haven’t…  How do you know–”

“I think what Cap is trying to say is how the heck do you know the baby’s his,” Tony supplied, bailing Steve out.

Hill looked stern at Tony’s tight tone.  “The doctors ran the DNA test three times.  Every time the match has been 98% accurate.”

“Right,” Tony said, shaking his head dismissively.  “I want access to the data.  I want Banner to take a look at it.”

May didn’t seem amused.  “Mr. Stark, test results don’t lie.”

“No, but people do.”  Tony was significantly less careful about hiding his disdain and distrust, like this whole thing was some sort of cruel practical joke that he was intent upon revealing for what it was.  “And people make mistakes.”

Hill bristled.  “What are you saying?  That we messed up?  That we’re not competent to run a simple DNA match?”

“If the shoe fits.”

Hill’s eyes flashed, but Fury jumped in to stem the argument.  “Alright, let’s not do this.”  His tone was curt and commanding, but not as harsh as it could be.  He looked among the group as though he was silently imploring each to stay calm and not fight.  “One of the doctors we apprehended told us the child was ‘made of Captain America’s DNA’, as he put it.  That’s why we ran the tests, and unfortunately everything he said has seemed to be true.”

“We have our team’s computer expert pouring over the data we obtained from the lab as well,” May added.  “However they managed to do this, we’ll find out the specifics.”

“Fine,” Tony said, folding his arms over his chest and nodding.  “I still want Bruce to look at all of it.”

“I would prefer we not bring too many people in on this,” Fury said.  “Like I said, I want it kept under wraps.”

“Discreet is Bruce’s middle name.  I never told you that?” Tony responded.

“Bruce Banner.  The man who turns into a gigantic green rage monster,” Hill deadpanned.

“Let’s not do this,” Fury said again, slowly and more forcefully.  His eye darted to the two women.  “You’re dismissed, both of you.”  May and Hill hesitated a moment, glancing at each other and then at their commander before nodding and turning to leaving.  The door on the other side of the room opened and closed with a hiss.  The room turned silent, completely silent except for the ever-present hum of the helicarrier’s engines and the soft, gentle whir of computers and the hushed whisper of air cycling through the vents.  The quiet was deep and entrapping, like the room was shrinking.  “Cap?”  Fury stepped closer to Steve.  “Cap, are you okay?”

Honestly, Steve had barely been listening.  He’d been _hearing_ the words, but nothing had really made sense to him.  He couldn’t stop staring at the baby.  The doctors were measuring her, taking her vitals.  Her eyes were barely open like she was half asleep, but even with her eyelids so heavy and from this distance Steve could see they were blue.  He was barely breathing, and his heart was thrumming shakily in his chest.  His lips were moving.  “Is she okay?”

Fury was standing beside him again, staring at the child and the doctors with her.  “We think so,” he answered.  “We’ve had her under observation for the last twelve hours ever since Agent May brought her to us.  As far as I know, everything is fine.  She’s healthy.”

“Why did they do this?” Tony asked.  He looked displeased at best, completely shocked and deeply disturbed and trying to hide it for Steve’s sake at least.

“The doctor claimed they were trying to recreate the super soldier serum,” Fury explained.  Steve gritted his teeth in anger.  No matter what, it didn’t seem like the world would _ever_ let this be.  He was the only super soldier in existence, the result of a highly experimental procedure during World War II, and nobody had ever managed to successfully replicate the process that had transformed him from a sick, weak, small boy into Captain America.  Plenty of people had tried.  The US government.  Other regimes around the world.  Evil scientists.  Even Bruce had, and his experiments in particular had led to disaster.  And now this.  “When they found out they couldn’t extract it from your DNA, they apparently turned their attention to trying to replicate it.”

“So she’s…”

“We’re not sure yet,” Fury said.  He deflated slightly, the hard lines of tension in his shoulders loosening.  “It’s complicated, to say the least.  Maybe having Doctor Banner in on this wouldn’t be so bad.  He’s probably the best expert we have on the serum.”

Steve didn’t care much about that.  Well, he did, but everything was such a tangled knot of emotions and thoughts inside him now that he really couldn’t parse it.  “But she’s okay.”  That appeared to be the only thing about which he _could_ think, and he was thinking about it in a state of not-quite panic but more agitation than could be considered anything remotely close to calm.

Fury read the edge in Steve’s voice.  “She’s okay,” he affirmed.

Steve released a long breath.  Somehow that eased the anger inside him, but Tony was more than willing to take up the slack in that regard.  “How exactly did this happen?  I don’t recall the Cap getting kidnapped or anyone sneaking into the Tower to steal samples from him, and I think I would remember that.  And you wouldn’t have volunteered for this experiment – what?”  Steve had enough presence of mind to give Tony a withering look.  “Come on.  How the hell did they get your DNA?”

Now Fury actually looked ashamed.  _Ashamed_.  It was almost like the apocalypse was nigh upon them, because if Steve hadn’t seeing it happening before his very eyes, he would have thought it impossible.  Fury’s gaze dipped and his jaw clenched and an expression of extreme discomfort flitted across his face.  “It must have come from SHIELD,” he lowly admitted.  Steve tore his eyes from the baby with great effort and regarded the other man sternly.  “We had samples from when we rescued you from the ice.  Blood samples and… others.”

 _Others?_ That fairly effectively stoked his anger.  His memories of waking up in the future had started with that charade courtesy of SHIELD of it still being 1945, but he was well aware he’d spent a few weeks recovering in New York before he’d regained consciousness.  He supposed it made sense that SHIELD would have taken some samples.  He’d been _dead_ , after all.  _What’s wrong with me?_   Was he actually trying to rationalize this?  What in the world was the matter with him?

Well, Tony was more than happy to argue on his behalf.  “You did, huh.  And were those taken and preserved with Steve’s consent?”  Fury glared at Stark.  Tony glared back.  The tension between them was far too thick to be cut with a knife at this point.  No, try axe.  Maybe one of those swords Clint had stashed in his room.  Tony and Fury hardly got along when things like an unexpected baby weren’t involved.  This was a recipe for disaster.  “Well, that’s just great.  I don’t know what’s more upsetting: the fact that you illegally took DNA samples from a man who probably wasn’t in any condition to protest–”

“Tony–”

“Or the fact that those samples _somehow_ escaped one of your super-secret facilities and made their way into the hands of the bad guys!”

“Tony,” Steve said again, this time more sharply.  He spared Tony a longer, firmer look, equal parts admonition and plea to not make this worse.  He knew Tony meant well – Tony _always_ meant well – but he just couldn’t take it right now.  Not now.  He felt…  He didn’t know what he felt.  He _was_ angry.  Shaken.  Violated.  Betrayed.  This wasn’t just some experiment.  This was a _life_ , a human life, and someone had played around with it and with him like he or she was God.  That was more than disturbing.

Fury was troubled, too, deeply so, and he wasn’t making his usual authoritative effort to hide it.  “I’m sorry, Cap.  Those samples were locked down, and I swear to you we weren’t using them in any effort to rebuild the serum.  They were logged in the event we ever needed them for _you_ and kept in secure storage.  If something ever compromised you or the serum, we had to have them.  And if somebody got access to them and gave them or sold them to our enemies, you can be damn sure I’m going to track them down and make them pay.”

Tony grunted.  “Well, that’s comforting.  A little late, don’t you think?”

Steve’s eyes were back on the baby.  She was crying now, fussing a bit.  Something inside him ached at that.  He couldn’t really explain it.  The words were out of his mouth before he even thought to speak.  “Can I go in there?”

Fury’s earnest expression of remorse and regret vanished like it was never there.  He heaved another sigh, this one tenser.  “I’m not sure that’s such a good idea.”

Steve turned at that.  He didn’t understand, and he felt an irrational bite of anger.  “If I can’t see her, then why did you bring me here?”

“I had a moral obligation to tell you about this.”

“And I have a moral obligation to…”  To what?  He didn’t even know what he was saying.

Tony picked up on his distress and uncertainty and stepped closer.  His eyes were filled with sympathy and concern.  It was uncharacteristic, but because it was so rare, it meant all that much more.  “Steve, you don’t have any obligation.  This wasn’t your choice, okay?  Let’s not jump to conclusions or do anything brash or get ahead of ourselves.  Let’s just take it easy.  One thing at a time.”

The words were repulsive.  _No obligation_.  His mother and Bucky and Peggy had always told him he was too stubborn for his own good.  And his team and friends – _his family_ – now said the same.  But he knew in his heart that he couldn’t just stand there and look at this baby and then walk away and go about his day like normal.  This wasn’t normal.  This one moment was going to change everything, one way or another.  The enormity of _that_ was too much to think about right now, so aside from acknowledging the truth that things were going to be different, his brain abandoned going over the consequences.  “I want to see her.  That’s all I’m asking.”

Fury clenched his jaw slightly.  It was impossible to tell what his objection was, exactly.  And furthermore, he wasn’t really in much of a position to prevent Steve from doing this.  If this truly was his baby…  Well…  “Alright,” he conceded.  “I can’t stop you.”

Steve glanced at Tony, searching for his friend’s approval.  It took Tony a beat to realize that was what Steve was doing.  Steve was Captain America, their leader and moral compass, and he rarely relied on his team to make his decisions.  This wasn’t to say he didn’t value their opinions or readily seek their input, because he did.  All the time.  But he was never so shaken.  And Tony, for all his strength and smarts, was just about as riled.  “I’ll, uh…  I’m going to call Bruce.  Get him down here.”  What he didn’t say was obvious.  _Bruce is smart._ Like Tony wasn’t.  Like Steve wasn’t.  But they couldn’t seem to manage much between the two of them right now.  And Bruce was always somehow calming.  The voice of reason.  _Bruce will know what to do._

What was there to do?

_What am I going to do?_

Both Fury and Tony stared at Steve helplessly, like they wanted to say or do more but didn’t have anything left.  They probably didn’t.  The baby was crying now, loud and outright, and those gasping, desperate sounds snapped Steve’s attention back to the room before him.  For how leaden and useless he had felt before, now he was walking and walking fast, and the next thing he knew he was inside.

The crying was much louder in there, almost piercing.  Steve stood by the door because his feet were stubbornly glued to the floor again.  He tried to peer through the doctors moving around the examination table, but he couldn’t see much.  It was difficult to listen to the crying.  He’d heard babies cry before.  He’d _seen_ them before, of course, but he’d never had much experience with them.  He was an only child.  Bucky had had three younger sisters, but they had all been very close in age so that by the time Steve had been old enough to potentially be involved with their care, they were already well past the infant stage.  And there had always been women in the neighborhood or at their church with babies, but he’d been a boy and a sick one to boot, so he’d never been asked to help with anything.  After the serum, he’d occasionally had a woman or two shove their children toward him during the war bond tour for him to kiss or hold for a picture.  And he’d seen and rescued babies and children during the war.  But all of that really paled in comparison to this.

So needless to say he was rather intimidated.

But it was _hard_ to listen to the baby cry.  “What’s the matter with her?” he heard himself ask over the din.

One of the doctors turned to glance at him disapprovingly.  “Captain, you shouldn’t be in here.”

“I won’t get in your way.  I promise.”

The doctor didn’t look pleased.  “Still, it’s…”  His face softened slightly, perhaps in realization that he couldn’t just throw Steve out or order him to leave.  He still wasn’t happy about it, but he sighed.  “Alright.  Just stay back please.”

Steve did.  He felt increasingly anxious as the two doctors worked and chatted lowly to each other.  It seemed like they were taking vitals, listening to the baby’s heart and lungs with a small stethoscope.  They pricked her tiny foot and took some blood; Steve couldn’t tell if that bothered her or not.  She was crying so hard now she was red in the face.  One of the nurses was noting everything they reported to her.  After an eternity that was torturous, standing there uselessly while the baby wailed, the doctors were finally finished.  They each afforded Steve a glance as they moved to the door.  Anxious and unsettled, he snatched the arm of one to stop him.  “Is she alright?”  He was like a broken record, but he couldn’t stop worrying.

“She seems perfectly healthy,” the man responded.

“Then why’s she…”

The nurse, a pretty young woman with blond hair and dressed in blue scrubs, came back from the side of the small room with a bottle.  “She’s just hungry.”  Steve hardly noticed the doctors leave, watching as the nurse picked up the tiny body from the table.  She patted her bottom for a second before wrapping her a little more tightly in the white blanket.  “Do you want to feed her?”

“What?”

The nurse smiled, and he wondered if everyone knew about this already.  That this baby was _his_ baby.  Even he hadn’t convinced himself of it.  “I mean, if you don’t want to do it, I can, but you came in, so I thought…”

Steve was completely taken aback by her suggestion, but surprisingly the idea wasn’t nearly as unsettling as he expected it would be.  Well, it was unsettling, but not because he didn’t want to.  “Am I allowed to do that?”

“Why wouldn’t you be?” the nurse responded.  “I’m Rebecca Lafferty, by the way.”

Steve’s brain was checking out.  Completely.  He was still processing that she wanted him to feed the baby.  Still.  It took him a minute to realize he was being rude and that he should say something.  Something simple, like his name.  “Steve Rogers.”

Rebecca laughed softly.  “I know, Captain,” she said.  “Still, it’s nice to meet you.  Here, come sit down.”  Steve must have been paler than a ghost or looked like a deer in headlights or something of the like because Rebecca stopped.  The baby was still squirming and screaming in her arms, but she seemed more concerned with Steve.  “Oh, I’m not trying to pressure you or anything.  If you don’t want to…  I mean, it’s not like you have to.”  This was awkward.

Finally his brain reengaged.  “No.  No, you’re not.  I should?  I, uh…”  His feet walked thankfully, and he went over to the chair to which she’d gestured before.  He sat.  “Yeah, I don’t know what…”

Rebecca came over, holding the baby easily with one secure arm and the bottle with the other.  The bottle she set to the arm of the chair, and the baby she gave to Steve.

Steve really had _no idea_ what he was doing.  He’d faced down Nazis and hordes of invading aliens and terrorists and killer robots…  The list went on and on.  He’d died for the world without a doubt in his mind.  But this was well and truly terrifying.  Rebecca didn’t seem dissuaded by his complete lack of grace or confidence.  “Just make sure you support her head,” she said as she gingerly laid the bundle against his left forearm.  Steve immediately did that.  “Newborns don’t have the capacity to do it themselves, so you always need to be careful.”

 _Newborn?_   “How old is she?”

“A few weeks, as far as the doctors can tell.”

Steve looked down at the baby that was nestled in his arms.  She was…  She was _tiny_.  His hands were absolutely huge curled around her squirming, crying form.  She weighed nothing to him, absolutely nothing, and yet somehow she was heavier than the weight of the world.  Shock and chilling terror rushed over him, leaving him reeling, but on the tails of that something akin to excitement came as well.  The baby’s face was so red from all the crying against the crook of his elbow.  “Just prop her up a little.  Here’s the bottle.  Gently put the nipple in her mouth.  The formula will come out easily enough.”

Steve calmed his pounding heart and willed his hand to stop shaking as he took the bottle from Rebecca and did what she said.  The minute the nipple slipped into the baby’s mouth, she stopped wailing and started sucking.  “Easy.  There you go.”  He looked up at Rebecca for some sort of confirmation he was doing this right, and she smiled fondly down on him.  “There.  Not so hard, right?”

Steve looked back down at the baby.  Now she was content enough, her little lips and jaw working on the bottle.  Her squirming immediately ceased, and her eyes were half-lidded as she drank.  Steve watched, awestruck.  She was beautiful.  That was the first thought that came to him.  Did she look like him?  He couldn’t see it if she did.  It was crazy, and it really couldn’t be true, but he thought…  The way her eyebrows curled ever so slightly over her eyes, the distance between the blue orbs, the length of her nose, the curl of her cherry red lips…  She looked like his mother.

That frightened him.  That made this _real_.  “I don’t know if I should be doing this,” he breathed.  He looked back up at the nurse, of whom he knew nothing beyond these last few minutes, seeking validation or confirmation that this was okay or _what._   He didn’t know.  He didn’t know anything right now.

Rebecca’s expression was soft and encouraging.  “Captain, it’s probably not my place.  No, it’s _definitely_ not my place.  But you don’t have to figure this out right now.  So just go with it.  Do what you think is best and worry about the rest later.”

That seemed like good enough advice, or at least he thought it was because the tense knot of doubt and fear loosened just a bit in his chest.  He looked back down at the baby, watched as she sucked greedily at the bottle.  Rebecca leaned closer, looking down over Steve’s shoulder.  “When she starts to get sleepy, you should burp her and see if she wants more.”

That sounded daunting.  “Could you show me how?”

“Gladly.  I’ll show you anything you want.”

* * *

Over the next hour or so, Rebecca taught him the basics.  As it turned out, she was the closest thing SHIELD had to offer to a pediatrics nurse.  She’d worked in a NICU in Manhattan before coming to SHIELD.  SHIELD didn’t exactly have much of a need for this sort of medicine, as it was rare for injured babies and children to come into their care.  Still, she was knowledgeable, experienced, and above all, patient.  She showed him how to burp the baby and explained why.  She explained the ins and outs of diapering and swaddling.  She told him all about newborn care, how often and how much they should eat and sleep and how many diapers they should go through a day.  He listened, asking a question or two now and then, and it didn’t occur to him until she left him with a smile and a promise to be back later that he was learning how to take care of a baby.  Learning how to take care of his daughter.

 _His daughter_.  Thinking that was distressing and exciting all at once.  He didn’t expect that latter part.  He hadn’t expected _any_ of this.  It hadn’t even remotely entered into the realm of possibility.  If someone had told him when he’d stumbled out of bed that morning after a long mission that he’d be holding a sleeping baby a few hours later, he would have said that was nuts.  After he’d fed her and changed her, she’d fallen asleep against him, swaddled up tightly in his arms.  She was breathing slowly and evenly, her little mouth slightly parted, and if the movement of her eyes beneath her eyelids was any indication, she was dreaming.  He sat there, watching her, keeping her tiny body tight against him for warmth and security and comfort.  He gently brushed the backs of his fingers against her cheek.  It was so velvety soft, smooth new skin.  As bundled as she was, he couldn’t see her hands and feet, but he had before.  Ten fingers and ten toes.  Maybe that was trite and stupid, but he’d still checked.  That was what he was supposed to do, right?  And maybe this whole thing was crazy, but he was still here, rocking a newborn baby as she slept.

This was crazy, but he couldn’t make himself put her down and leave.

There was a knock.  “Steve?”  He pulled himself from his thoughts to see Bruce timidly open the door and step inside the room. 

Tony was with him.  At the sight of Steve sitting in the chair with the baby in his arms, the two scientists shared a concerned look.  “You sure you wanna be doing that?” Tony asked.

Steve couldn’t lie.  “No.  But it didn’t seem right not to.”

Tony shook his head sadly.  “I think we are way beyond of the point of there being easy answers about right and wrong,” he said.  That gave Steve pause, made him feel even more uncertain.  He didn’t like it one bit.  So much of who he was inside had to do with a very clear cut sense of what was right.  Maybe other people thought that was naïve and simple-minded, but that was who he was.  And he wasn’t naïve or simple-minded.  He knew the world existed and sometimes even thrived in grays, in the blurry and indistinct areas between right and wrong or between good and evil.  But he didn’t.  He lived his life by doing the right thing at all costs.  He believed in that, acted on it and spoke out for it.  He let his heart direct him, and it had never been wrong.

Bruce seemed to sense his distress, so he changed the subject a little.  For preferring to live rather removed from difficult and emotionally-charged situations, he was adept at reading people.  “How is she?”

Steve shrugged.  He had to say he was pretty proud of himself for getting the baby to drink her bottle and go to sleep considering he’d never done anything even remotely like this before.  “Fine, I think.  She had a bottle, and she’s been sleeping for an hour or so.”

“How are you?” Bruce immediately asked.

“Fine.”  The response was rougher than he thought it would be.  His voice felt thick in his throat, very much not his own.  But that answer, however useless and inadequate it was, was all he could manage.  Anything else would be a lie.  He didn’t know how he was.  He didn’t know what to think of all of this.  He didn’t know how to feel.  “I’m fine.”

Bruce nodded, not at all convinced but wisely choosing not push it further.  “You want to bring her up here?  Let me take a look at her.”

Steve looked down at the baby again, so peaceful in his arms, and inexplicably he _didn’t_ want to put her down.  She’d suffered enough, being brought into this world as she had.  But that wasn’t rational, and he knew it, so he stood gracefully and carefully set the bundle of blankets to the examination table again.

Bruce took off her little pink hat and unwrapped the swaddling carefully.  Tony was making a pointed effort to keep his distance, eyeing the infant warily like if he got too close, he might be exposed to something.  He crumpled slightly, glancing between the baby and Steve.  “Ugh.  She does look like you.”

That took Steve aback again.  Hearing somebody else say it made it real.  Real and getting realer.  “That’s what I was wondering,” he admitted in a quiet voice, unable to tear his eyes away from the baby’s sleeping face as Bruce gently worked the blankets free.  “I think she looks like my mother.”

Tony seemed bothered, like he’d hoped otherwise despite the litany of DNA evidence SHIELD supposedly had.  Like this, too, was the one thing that pushed him over from the complete inability to accept this to the inevitable and hard fact that _it was true_.  “So much for plausible deniability.”

“I think that went out the door with the 98% accuracy on the genetic tests,” Bruce reminded simply.

“What are you doing?” Steve asked.

“Taking some blood so I can run more thorough analysis.”

“Is that going to hurt her?”  Bruce gave him something of a withering look, not a harsh one but enough to make Steve realize he was being stupid.  “Right.  Sorry.”

Bruce patted his shoulder.  “Don’t worry about it.  You have enough on your mind.”  This was how far their odd group had come as friends.  Bruce, who typically detested personal contact and pushed people away and avoided stressful situations like this one like the plague, was grasping his shoulder and offering him an encouraging smile.  And Tony was there too, even though this whole thing very obviously made him uncomfortable.  Tony was there because of him and for him.  Suddenly he felt better, maybe even more sure of himself.

Bruce pricked the baby’s heel like the doctors had before, jostling her from her slumber.  She was none too happy about that, letting loose a mewling cry that Steve immediately shushed.  He laid his hand on her forehead head and brushed the dark hair back gently while Bruce collected his samples.  “She looks okay,” Bruce said.

“That’s what they keep telling me,” Steve said, “but I don’t know.”  Now the questions were racing through his head, hard and fast, and it was difficult to concentrate on just one.  “If they… _made_ her to get the serum, does that mean she has it?  The serum, I mean.”

“I don’t know,” Bruce answered.  “Maybe once I run these samples I’ll be able to tell more.  But the thing is, Steve, the serum is part of you and you’re part of it.  That’s why it’s so hard to recreate it, so beyond seeing that she shares a large part of your DNA, that’s going to be hard to determine.”

Of course, there was the opposite outcome.  Steve wasn’t sure which was worse: inheriting the super soldier serum (which would mean this child would never have a normal life) or not.  No matter how many days he spent as Captain America, a part of him would always remember what it had been like to be weak and small and beset with enough health problems that he was lucky to be alive.  His litany of illnesses and defects had been substantial: asthma, chronic ear infections, a weakened immune system, and a poor heart, among others.  It was a punishment he wouldn’t wish on anyone, let alone her.  And it hadn’t just been the misery of being sick all the time.  It had also been being passed over, pushed down, ignored because you were small and weak so you were nothing.  Incapable.  _Useless._ “I know what you’re going to ask me,” Bruce said before Steve had even opened his mouth.  “I can’t tell you.  If the technology existed to determine a person’s physical outcome from his DNA, the world would be a mighty different place.  And scarier, in my opinion.”

That didn’t make him feel better, even if he could understand it.  “What about the mother?”  Tony asked.  He shrugged at Steve’s questioning glance, because it was an obvious question.  “Well, it takes two to tango.  And I’m not saying that you did anything, Cap, but I know you understand the basics of the birds and the bees.  As technologically advanced as these jerks might be, I doubt they’ve been able to overcome the laws of good old Mother Nature.  _Some_ woman _somewhere_ birthed this bundle of joy.”

“Yeah,” Bruce agreed.  “They probably genetically engineered the baby and then implanted the embryo with IVF.”

“IVF?”

“In vitro fertilization,” Bruce explained.  “It’s actually pretty common nowadays and it helps women who can’t get pregnant with a fairly good success rate for those who are patient enough to stick with it.  Fertilization occurs outside the body and the zygote is transferred to the uterus.  The baby’s got some genetic material that didn’t come from you.  But without someone to match it against there’s no way to tell who it belongs to.”

Steve was back to not knowing how to feel about any of this.  “So her mother could be out there somewhere,” he surmised.

“Probably is.  JARVIS is churning through all the data SHIELD gathered on this operation.  If there’s something there on her identity, we can track her down.  Question is: was she another unwilling participant or one of their own?”

Bruce considered that.  “Logic would dictate that they’d pick someone with whatever they considered to be good genetic stock.”

“Assuming the woman who donated her yin to Steve’s yang is the same woman who carried the baby to term.”

“Assuming,” Bruce conceded.

“Wait, what?  That’s possible?” Steve asked, struggling to keep up. 

Bruce looked apologetically at him.  “Technology can do amazing things,” he said.  He looked down at the baby, who’d settled back down into sleep with Steve’s hand comfortingly rubbing her hair.  “Unfortunately, in the hands of the wrong people…  Well, you know as well as I do that science can cause a great deal of harm.”

“I didn’t get hurt,” Steve insisted.

“Sure, you didn’t,” Tony answered doubtfully.  He eyed Steve critically.  “If you ask me, having your DNA stolen without your consent and used to genetically engineer a child without your consent is pretty solidly on the scarred for life scale.”

Steve paled and floundered.  Hearing Tony put it like that, harsh and ugly and all out in the open, dashed any sense of control he might have felt over this situation.  So he didn’t know what to say.  Yeah, okay, these scientists whoever they were had violated any number of ethical principles, broken the law, endangered the life of an innocent child, and radically altered his life.  But he hadn’t been _hurt_.  He was fine.  He would be fine.  Wouldn’t he?  And Agent May and her team had gotten this baby and the rest of those kids away from the bad guys.  So things were going to be okay, weren’t they?

 _Who am I kidding?_   “It’s not her fault,” he said, because that much at least he knew was true.

“Of course it’s not,” Tony said, looking a little upset himself, “but that doesn’t mean you need to…”

“Need to what?” Steve pressed.  There was an edge to his voice.  He couldn’t help it.

Tony looked trapped and instantly regretful for even starting this conversation.  Then he heaved a sigh, deflating for all intents and purposes.  “This is a messed up situation is all,” he muttered.

Steve couldn’t argue with that, either.  He looked back down at the baby, feeling torn and possessive and just plain confused.  Part of him wanted to scoop her back up because things felt saner and calmer and more controlled back in the chair with him holding her as she slept.  Part of him wanted to run and never look back because damn if he wasn’t scared out of his mind.  And another part of him couldn’t bring himself to even move.

It was Bruce and his unending supply of calm patience that intervened on his behalf.  “Look, Steve, why don’t you go get something to eat.  You look like you need it.  Tony will go with you.”

“Yeah, I’ll go with you,” Tony dumbly repeated.

Steve’s immediate reaction was to deny that and argue, but Bruce stopped him again.  He smiled faintly, a knowing look in his eyes.  “I’ll stay here and get the rest of the readings I need.  She’s not going to be alone, I promise.  Go eat, clear your head a little, and then come back if you want.”

“When I want,” Steve corrected.

Bruce smiled disarmingly, but it was clear from the glint in his eyes that he wasn’t entirely pleased with that response.  “When you want,” he repeated.

Steve looked between his two friends and teammates, and then his eyes settled on the baby girl again.  She was sleeping anew, her tummy full and wrapped in her blanket.  He swept his thumb through her hair again, this time more jerkily like he wasn’t sure if it was right of him to be doing it.  That would be because he wasn’t sure.  Not anymore.  Had he been?

_A messed up situation if there ever was one._

“Come on, Steve-o,” Tony said.  He grabbed Steve’s arm firmly enough to not be shaken off but not so roughly as to be dragging.  Not that Tony could drag him away if he wanted to stay; he was Captain America.  Only the Hulk and Thor could move him when he didn’t want to go.  But maybe Bruce was right.  He hadn’t realized just how famished he was until right then, his stomach suddenly an aching pit that panged him.  Furthermore, a few minutes to gather his thoughts wouldn’t hurt anything.  _She’ll be okay.  Bruce has her._

“Okay,” he heard himself say.  It took some effort, but he pulled his hand away from the baby’s soft hair and let Tony direct him out the door.

“It’s alright,” Tony promised as he led Steve out the room.  Steve looked back at the tiny bundle on the table, and he couldn’t help but wonder if that could be true.  If it was alright.  If she’d be alright.

Or if he’d be.


	3. Chapter 3

The walk to the cafeteria was silent and tense.  Steve could tell Tony wanted to say something, but he wasn’t saying it, whatever it was.  He was holding it in.  That sort of restraint wasn’t characteristic of him.  Tony always said what he was thinking, and when he was riled or stressed, the filter between his brain and his mouth completely vanished.  So the fact that he was exercising such remarkable restraint probably spoke to how very much he didn’t want to upset Steve but, simultaneously, how very much he wanted to say what he wanted to say.

The helicarrier housed a fairly decent mess hall.  Steve supposed it had to, since it was feeding over a thousand agents and personnel.  He’d eaten there himself numerous times over the last year as he worked with SHIELD.  What they served was passable, although Steve had to admit his standards were still probably rather low considering he’d grown up in an age where food had been scarce and what little that could be found had always been bland and boiled.  His mother (and Bucky’s mother) had always tried to make it more delicious, but oatmeal and cabbage soup could only be dressed up so much.  And the army certainly hadn’t improved his palate any.  Tony, however, had never known anything other than the finest of everything, food included.  He had five star cooks working in his kitchens.  He drank two hundred dollar bottles of wine while eating cuts of steak of which Steve had never heard.  Tony liked junk food, sure, but he also ordered take-out from fancy restaurants across the country and had it airlifted to wherever he was.  And that was exactly what he offered Steve.  “You sure you want this garbage?  I can get–”

“It’s fine.” Steve heard himself say the words like it was some sort of automatic response.  He wondered if that wasn’t too far from the truth.  “I, uh, I don’t think it matters.  I’ll eat whatever there is.”

“’Course you will,” Tony said as they walked into the huge room.  A wide expanse of windows revealed a sunny day, pleasant blue skies and fluffy white clouds.  There was a long buffet filled with food, but like everything else on the helicarrier, it was gunmetal gray and chrome.  The array of tables and chairs orderly placed around the room were as well, and the atmosphere was not exactly conducive to relaxing over a nice meal.  But, then, that wasn’t really the point of this place, was it?  It was utilitarian: talk, build-up morale if appropriate, but mostly just eat.  Sometimes in their line of work there wasn’t time for anything other than the basics.  A lot of the time, in fact.

Tony wrinkled his nose at the sight of the mess, clearly displeased.  There were a few agents there, but it was mostly deserted and quiet.  It was a bit early for lunch.  “But the thing is, Cap, you don’t have to eat whatever there is.  I can call in whatever you want.  The pizza from that place you like on Broadway?  Can have it here in thirty minutes.  Or Thai food.  I know you like the Pad Thai from Thai Taste.”

“In DC?  That’s a little out of the way.”

“Not for me.  Or we can just, I dunno, _leave_ and get whatever we want and come back.  Nobody said we can’t; well, not that we _need_ anyone’s permission, because we don’t.  Like _at all_.  So if you want to go, we can–”

“Is this your not-so-subtle way of telling me that I don’t have to be okay with this?” Steve asked.  He grabbed a tray and proceeded to fill it with plates of stuff.  He didn’t really notice what he was grabbing.  He just wanted to eat and get back, back to Bruce and the baby.  That was where he needed to be.

“Well, you don’t have to be.  I wouldn’t be, if I was in your place.”  Tony was coming with his own tray, sliding it along the counter like Steve was doing probably because Steve was doing it and he was following suit.  Steve idly wondered if Tony had ever had a meal like this before.  “You don’t have to take it all in stride.”

“Tony,” Steve said with half a sigh, “with all due respect–”

“Uh oh.  Nothing good ever follows that phrase.”

“–you and I aren’t the same person.  You’re not in my place.”  There was no heat in his tone.  He kept his voice clear of it, even though his emotions were roiling under his skin again like waves on a tumultuous sea.  “We handle things very differently.”

They finished collecting lunch.  Steve had apparently picked a bunch of sandwiches and a burger and fries; not the healthiest faire, but he was really hungry and too distracted to really care.  He just wanted to fill his stomach with something so it would stop aching like the gaping maw of a bottomless pit.  Tony had the same kinds of stuff but less of it.  Steve grabbed a couple of bottles of water from a sleek refrigerator at the end of the line.  Tony was displeased with the selection, but eventually he took another water for himself.  They found a table in the corner near the windows and sat down.  Steve was halfway through devouring his meal before he even realized he was eating.  Nothing tasted like anything to him, but he wasn’t sure if that was because the food was flavorless or he just couldn’t concentrate on it.  All he could think about was the baby, alone down there.  Bruce was with her, and of course he trusted Bruce.  He trusted Bruce with his life, in fact.  He trusted all of the Avengers that way.  But he couldn’t stop worrying.  What if she needed something and Bruce didn’t know what?  It was stupid and irrational; Bruce was a doctor, and even if he preferred to think of himself as something else, he knew how to take care of people.  And Bruce was a genius to boot.  Surely he’d know how to handle a crying infant.

For some reason, that didn’t make Steve feel any better.

But, then, what did Steve know about taking care of a baby?

“I know what you’re thinking,” Tony said around a mouthful of turkey sandwich.  “I know you, and I know _exactly_ what thoughts are streaming through your stupidly noble head right now.”

Steve flushed, like he’d been caught in a lie.  He tried to cover it, not at all pleased with being so transparent.  Tony’s poor people skills were the stuff of legend, but Steve found the engineer was more perceptive than most people realized.  “You may be smart, but last I checked you can’t read people’s minds.”

“Yours I can.  I can always figure you out.  I just need to find the stance that is the complete opposite of selfish and cowardly and smart, and that’s where you’ll be.”

Steve sighed, not sure if he was being complimented or insulted.  “Tony, come on.”

“She’s not your baby, Steve.  You know that, right?  Even if she is, she’s not.”

“What does that even mean?”  Steve sounded more hurt than he was.  Or that he meant to sound.  He wasn’t sure which.

Tony dropped his tone to keep the conversation hushed.  He darted his eyes around suspiciously, but no one was near them.  No one was looking.  “You know what it means,” he said.  “This wasn’t your choice.”

“I know that, but I already said that she shouldn’t be punished for it,” Steve said, and now he sounded angrier than he was.  Or was he?  He really wasn’t sure.

Tony sighed.  He didn’t mean to, but he sometimes got this irritated, slightly condescending air when he talked to people about something that, to him, seemed easy and cut and dry.  Steve tried not to take offense.  “This isn’t…  You know, you didn’t get drunk, have a fun romp in the sheets, and now your one night stand is standing at your door nine months later with an unexpected bundle of joy.”

Steve made a sour face.  “You honestly think I would ever do that?  And I can’t even get drunk.”

Tony just went on.  “This isn’t accidentally knocking up your girlfriend and having to deal with the fall-out.  This baby has no connection to you aside from a chunk of your genetic material that _you_ didn’t even give to her, at least not in the traditional sense.  And without your knowledge at best.  Against your will at worst.  Let’s not forget that.”

Steve gritted his teeth.  “That’s not relevant.”

“No, it _is_ relevant. It’s extremely relevant.  And I’m not saying that to sound cold or insensitive–”

“Well, you’re doing a heck of a job at sounding both,” Steve retorted.  Tony had the grace and decency to look ashamed and even pained at Steve’s curt response.  And Steve had the wherewithal despite the emotional upheaval threatening inside of him to feel bad.  “Sorry.  I know you’re trying to help.”

Tony was quiet for a moment, shuffling the rest of his lunch around his tray in an uncharacteristic show of nervousness like he was trying to figure out how to proceed or if he even should.  Again, that was unusual for him.  Eventually the inventor shoved it all away and sat back.  “Look, Cap, none of this is natural.  It’s not normal.”  _That’s true, at least._   “Hell, you didn’t even get to have the fun part before the life-altering mistake part.”

The hurt came back, sharply and insistently.  “She’s not a mistake.”

Tony winced in shame, and he lowered his voice further into a softer, regretful tone.  “I know she’s not.  Sorry.  I, uh, I’m not saying what I want to say right.  My jerkish tendencies are showing.”

Steve managed a smile.  He twisted the cap off of one of the water bottles and drank it dry.  “It’s alright.  Happens all the time.”  The attempt at levity fell flat.  It wasn’t much of an attempt, in all honesty.

“And I admit it.  I don’t know exactly what you’re thinking, no.  But I know you.  If you thought for even a second that there was a way to make something right, to correct some sort of injustice, you’d do it in a heartbeat, no matter what it cost you.”

“Tony, what’re you saying?”

Tony sighed.  “I don’t want to see you make a rash decision that you’ll regret because you think you have some sort of duty in this situation.  Trust me.  You don’t.  I meant what I said before.  You don’t have any obligation.  You don’t owe Fury or…  You don’t owe this kid anything.  And I’m not saying that to be mean.  I’m just calling it as I see it.”

“And what rash decision are you worried I’m going to make?”

“That you’re going take her home and be her father.”

Steve was silent.  The world was collapsing around him again.  He wasn’t sure why.  It wasn’t like the thought hadn’t been crawling around in the back of his mind.  It had been soft and quiet, unobtrusive, but it had been there, no denying it.  Lurking until the moment came where he had enough courage and strength to actually acknowledge it.  Maybe Tony really could read minds (or Steve was just pathetically transparent), because this was what Tony did all the time, particularly with him.  Tony dispensed with placating nonsense and procrastination (well, in other people at any rate – he was rather immune to his own tactics) and brought unavoidable things to the forefront.  So now it was _there_ , right in front of Steve, and he couldn’t look away.  He couldn’t even deny that he’d been subconsciously considering it.

He was silent, because he was pretty well stunned (and even a little ashamed, because who was he kidding?  The idea of taking the baby was crazy).  Tony didn’t hesitate to flesh that realization out further.  “It’s all kinds of stupid.  It’s insane.  You don’t know the first thing about babies.”

“Neither do you,” Steve said, and that seemed rather petty.

Tony wasn’t fazed.  “Never said I did, although I do know enough to say that they have a significant shelf life on them.  It’s not like successfully giving her one bottle and getting her to take a little nap means you are a grade-A parenting expert.”  Of course, it didn’t.  Steve might have been naïve, but he knew he wasn’t that bad or that stupid.  He looked away, inexplicably even more ashamed and it was married with frustration now.  “Listen, Steve…  You’re Captain America.  You’re our leader.  But more important than all that?  You’re my friend.  I don’t want to see you get hurt or put in a position to get hurt.”

More and more he was realizing that he’d been put in that position already.  He summoned up some measure of fortitude and forced his heart to stop its aching and his mind to stop its racing and his voice to be steady.  “I know, Tony.  I’m not going to rush into anything.  I don’t even know if I have the right to do anything.”

Tony didn’t argue with that.  It didn’t make sense to, since it only furthered his own opinions.  But Steve inwardly bristled.  He _was_ this baby’s father, no matter how that had come to happen.  He had the right to do whatever he thought was best, didn’t he?  Wasn’t that part of what parenthood was?  Doing what was best for one’s child?

They fell into an awkward and tense silence.  They were both done eating.  Neither of them was satisfied.  Steve tried to pick himself back up, tried to find some stable ground in a world that was so abruptly off-kilter.  He’d lived through and participated in some insane stuff, chief among that fighting a demented monster with a red skull in World War II and waking up seventy years later to lead a team of superheroes against an invading alien army summoned by a deranged Norse demigod.  But he’d never felt so radically altered before, like he was fundamentally _different_ from who he had been when he’d woken up that morning.  Finding himself in the future had been a shock in every sense of the word, no doubt about it.  Still, this was… more and less.  More because this wasn’t just _his_ life in the balance.  Less because he’d never been so unsure of what to do.  “I know I can’t just walk away, though,” he said softly, staring blankly at his empty water bottles and lunch tray.  He felt Tony staring at him, so he focused and raised his head to meet his friend’s gaze.  “I don’t know what Fury wants or expects me to do, but I can’t do that.”

Tony nodded, releasing a long breath and leaning back in his chair wearily.  “I know,” he agreed.  Steve’s despondent expression prompted him to tip his head with a crooked grin.  “Hey, whatever happens, you know you’re not alone in this.  We’re with you.”

Steve smiled a little at that, warmed and relieved.  He did know that, had never doubted it in fact.  No matter what else, the Avengers were a team.  Even with all of their issues and big personalities and chaos, they were friends, the closest thing most of them had to a family.  Sure, they had their differences, and they bickered to beat the band sometimes, but when it mattered, they always had each other’s backs.

Case in point.  “I already called Pep and canceled for you.”

“Huh?”

“The Maria Stark Foundation Event,” Tony supplied.

“Oh.”  Steve winced, immediately feeling bad for causing Tony trouble like this.  Especially after he’d said (weeks ago, to Pepper’s knowledge anyway) that he’d help.  “Sorry.”

“Hey, it’s no big deal.  Just cost me thousands of dollars and whatever’s left of my good name.  When you promise Captain America, you better deliver.”  Tony’s cheeky grin alerted Steve to the fact that he wasn’t serious (or that he didn’t care if it had cost him that much).  “Pepper’s on her way back from LA.”

“Why?  She doesn’t need to do that.”

“Well, call me crazy, but I think she cares about you.  You’re like the annoyingly sweet little brother she never had but always wanted so she could have someone to dress up and set up on dates and gab about to her girlfriends about how cute but hopeless you are.  And then she wants me to take you places, you know, so that we bond while she tries to find you a girl who’s good enough for you.”

Steve managed to saddle Tony with a dry look.  “You’re getting carried away with your analogy.”

Tony shrugged.  “She likes taking care of you.  She wants to make sure you’re okay.”

“I _am_ okay.”

“Sure you are.”  The new voice made both of them turn.  Clint and Natasha were approaching, former with a pained looked on his face and the latter unsurprisingly emotionless.  Of all of the Avengers, Steve had had the hardest time learning to read the two master spies and assassins.  They were very cool customers.  Natasha had many masks, many versions of herself, although Steve was pretty sure he’d finally seen the true woman beneath all the fiery sass and icy confidence and powerful control.  She was sweet in a way he found surprising sometimes, caring when it really mattered, and she was extremely adept at figuring people out.  She had to be in her line of work.  And Clint with all his unflappable composure was sturdy and practical, a pragmatist in the truest sense of the word.  His level-headed wisdom was a God-send sometimes when tempers flared (although to be honest, he and Tony clashed more than they should).  Clint had his eye on everything all the time, both in the battlefield and off of it.  He was the one who saw the threats coming, who evaluated them, who picked out the pertinent information and delivered it to Steve so he could make good and timely decisions.  And Clint was fun once you got through his somewhat prickly exterior.  He had a wry sense of humor that Steve appreciated.

But right now there was nothing but concern on Clint’s face as he stood beside Steve.  “Well, this isn’t a situation I ever even remotely envisioned.”

“What are you guys doing here?” Tony asked.  “I thought Fury wanted this on lock-down.”

Natasha looked put off.  “Did you honestly think Fury was going to be able to keep this quiet?”  She gracefully sat in the metal chair next to Steve.  “Besides, you told JARVIS.”

“And JARVIS bent to your wiles?”  Natasha cocked an eyebrow coyly.  Stark’s show of displeasure was extravagant.  “What a traitor.”

“JARVIS surprisingly likes to gossip,” Natasha said.  Then she actually winced, like she’d realized what she’d just said wasn’t kind.  “Not that this is worthy of gossip.  Sorry.”

Steve managed a disarming smile.  “It’s okay.”

“Is it true?” Clint asked.

He tried not to think about how much the baby looked like his mother.  Tony answered before he got a chance to, at any rate.  “So they say.  Bruce is running some tests now.”

The four of them were quiet for a tense moment.  Then Clint sighed, his shoulders deflating slowly beneath the black shirt he was wearing.  “What a way to way to end your week,” he muttered disdainfully.  “Lousy mission followed by even lousier news.  Who found the baby?”

Tony finished the rest of his water.  “Some lady named Agent June?  April?  July, August, September?  Some month.  Ugh, I’m bad with names.  I’ll just keep going until I get it.”

“Agent Melinda May,” Steve supplied distantly.  Clint’s mention of the mission they’d done together made all of his bruises and pains come back hard and fast.  And Clint calling all of this “lousy” like he had only made the ache in his chest come back just as acutely.  He knew Clint didn’t mean it to be upsetting, but it was.  It was that _everyone_ was seeing this as a problem.

“Yeah, her.  She looks hard-core, like she’s never smiled a day in her life.  She and Hill together made the temperature drop like a solid ten degrees from warm and fuzzy to kill-you-with-my-icy-glare territory.  Said she was working with some special team to track down weird threats on SHIELD’s list.  Which is weird, in and of itself.  Isn’t that our job?”

“The Cavalry?”  Clint shared a questioning look with Natasha.  “I thought she was riding a desk after Bahrain.”

Natasha tipped her head slightly.  “I’m not sure.  We’ve been rather busy over the last year, in case you haven’t noticed.”  Clint shrugged at that.  Natasha’s face softened in a way it only ever did for Steve.  She, Clint, and Steve worked closely together for SHIELD.  They were the ones sent out for the toughest missions now, the missions whose threat level was very high but the situation was too sensitive for the flash and conspicuousness of calling in the Hulk, Iron Man, and Thor.  “Are you alright?”

For some reason, that was what made Steve lose it.  The storm of emotions inside him shifted so suddenly that he wasn’t prepared, and he snapped.  “Yes, I’m fine!  Alright?  Stop asking.”

“Cap, it’s okay to not be, you know,” Clint said.  He seemed a little surprised by Steve’s momentary outburst.  Steve was always so quiet and reserved, and he didn’t take things out on other people, even when it was warranted and they deserved it.  “Nobody thinks any less of you for saying it.”

“This isn’t about me.  Doesn’t anybody care about her?”

“The baby?”

Steve fought to keep his temper in check.  “Yes, the baby!  She’s the victim in all this!”  Did that sound desperately defensive, like he was trying to deflect their totally justifiable concern?

“Of course she is,” Natasha answered, “but so are you.  And you’d be worried if it was one of us in your spot.  Don’t try to deny it.”

Steve couldn’t, because she was right.  He would be.  What had happened to him was betrayal and violation, not at all physical, but emotional.  When he admitted that to himself, the pain ratcheted up inside him, and he felt even more lost.  Every muscle in his body was tense, pulled taut like a cord.  The silence that followed was rife with disquiet, and they were all looking at him.  Staring at him like they wanted him to say or do something to _lead_ them.  That was what he was, after all.  Their leader.  Because he was a captain and a soldier.  “I don’t know what’s expected of me,” he admitted softly in a terse voice.  “I don’t know…”  _What to think.  What to say.  What to do._

That was obviously disturbing to the others and with good reason.  Steve _was_ their captain, and he never admitted that he didn’t know.  He always had a plan.  That made him feel more like a failure – _what’s wrong with you?  You’re not a failure, and you didn’t do anything wrong!_ – than he already felt.  He sighed loudly, frustrated and just plain, old-fashioned angry.

Tony cleared his throat.  “You know what?  Let’s go back down there.  Maybe Bruce has found something out that will make you feel better.”

 _Like what?_ But Steve realized what it was Tony was hoping as Clint and he cleared the remains of their lunch and Natasha gently directed him from the cafeteria with a comforting hand on his arm.  Despite his genius-level intellect and keen sense of reality, Tony was terrifically awesome at deluding himself sometimes.  He gravitated toward the smallest possibilities and explored them and enhanced them like there was a chance they could come true.  Maybe being so rich and smart and powerful _made_ those slim chances seem less slim and more likely, like the illusion of control could actually create control.  Tony was honestly still hoping there was a chance that Bruce would discover that this child – this lousy news, this mistake, this _problem_ – wasn’t Steve’s.

* * *

Yeah, Tony was a master at deluding himself.

“She’s yours, Steve.  There’s no doubt about it.”

Plausible deniability wasn’t just out of the question.  It was _gone_.  Dead.  A pipedream.

The baby was screaming again.  Loudly.  It was hard to hear Bruce over it, and it was setting everyone on edge.  She was squirming on the examination table, red in the face, her tiny mouth open wide with every plaintive, ear-piercing wail.  Bruce was looking over data on one of the sleek SHIELD monitors on the other side of the room, trying to carry on like the baby wasn’t making such a tremendous racket.  “More than half of her DNA is from you, and that’s just what I’ve found so far.  It looks like certain genes she got entirely from you.  In some cases she has two copies of the same gene, both from you, or two nearly identical copies, even though other parts of the same chromosome don’t look like they’ve come from you.”

“How is that even possible?” Tony asked, staring at the results as though it was a puzzle he could tease apart and figure out so that he could change it and make it into something else.  “I thought mom gave one X chromosome, dad gave the other, and in the end it’s an even share.”

“I don’t know,” Bruce admitted.  “With current technology, it’s not manageable.  And even if it was, this level of genetic engineering is illegal and immoral.”

“No, really,” Clint dryly muttered.  His arms were folded over his chest, but he kept grimacing and glancing over his shoulder at the screaming infant.  “What’s the matter with her?”

Steve couldn’t stand it anymore.  He wondered where Rebecca was; he hadn’t seen her (or any of the doctors) since the big announcement that morning.  He felt irritated.  He felt like he’d been dumped into the middle of a huge ocean and expected to swim his way alone to shore.  But he had no idea what Rebecca or anyone else had been told.  Maybe she’d been ordered to leave the Avengers alone.  It didn’t matter.  He was Captain America; if anyone could swim to shore from the middle of the ocean, it was him.  And he had a pretty good idea of what was wrong with the baby.  “She’s hungry.”  Assuming Bruce hadn’t fed her, the last time she’d eaten had been well over three hours ago.  Rebecca had told him she should be having a bottle every two to three hours.

Bruce looked a little sheepish, like he should have known that.  “Oh, right.  Here.”  The other Avengers stood back as Steve went toward the howling baby and Bruce found a bottle of formula in one of the cabinets in the small room.  Clint, Natasha, and Tony watched, all three of them looking blatantly like fish out of water.  Honestly, _none_ of them knew a thing about this.  They were spies and assassins and soldiers.  They were engineers and scientists.  They were _superheroes_.  But they all stood, mortified and useless given the crying of one hungry baby.

Steve checked her diaper like Rebecca had showed him and found her really wet.  “Um,” he said, too frazzled for a moment to formulate a thought, much less a plan.  But a plan he did formulate.  “Tony, I think there are diapers over there.”

“Diapers?”  Tony seemed like he didn’t understand the meaning of the word.

“Yeah, in that cabinet there.  And a cream of some sort?  I don’t know.  Look and see what you can find.”

“What the heck is this?” Clint said, holding up a pink pacifier that he’d found on the tray next to the examination table.  “They, uh…  It goes in their mouths, right?”

Steve rolled his eyes a little and took it from the archer.  “Yeah, but not when you’ve had your germy hands all over it.  See if you can find a clean one.”

Tony procured the diaper and handed it to Steve from as far away as he possibly could.  “What?” he said churlishly at Steve’s annoyed look.

Steve just shook his head, trying to remember what to do.  If he could lead a battalion of troops through a time-sensitive, critical mission against the enemy successfully, he could manage this, couldn’t he?  He unwrapped the blanket from the baby’s jerking and struggling arms and legs.  She wasn’t dressed in anything more than a bodysuit – what had Rebecca called that?  A onesie?  His clumsy fingers unsnapped it at the crotch and pulled it loose.  Then it was a matter of getting the diaper off.  Diapers in his time had been cloth with pins he thought.  These were disposable and had some sort of Velcro-like system that secured in the front.  Which side was the front?

 _Get the dirty one off first._   That seemed like a good place to start.  So he did that, grabbing the tube of cream Natasha offered him.  “You know what you’re doing?” she asked over the screaming.

“No,” he answered plainly.  He rolled up the wet diaper, thanking his lucky stars she hadn’t done anything other than pee because he really wasn’t ready to handle _that_.  Then he spread the cream on like Rebecca had showed him, grasped the baby’s tiny ankles very gently.  For the first time since Project: Rebirth, he was downright scared of his own strength.  He lifted the baby’s rear, trying to manage opening the diaper with the other hand.  Bruce took it and did it for him.  He figured out which way was the front in the process ( _it’s the side with the cartoon characters on it – got it_ ).  He slid that under her, pulled the front up between her legs and tucked it beneath her belly button, and secured it.  “Okay.  Okay.”  He released a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding.  He re-snapped the bodysuit, rewrapped the blanket around her, and took the bottle Bruce held out to him.  _Support her head,_ his brain immediately reminded.  _Just get it in her mouth.  She’ll drink._   He lifted her up in one arm, got the bottle in her mouth with the other, and then it was over.  She was happy and sucking and nestled against his chest.

Steve felt like he’d run a marathon and _won_.  He looked up at his friends, half a laugh on his smiling lips, all the pain and uncertainty completely melting away.  Tony looked like he was insane.  Clint did, too.  And Natasha…  “You’re a natural, Steve.”

He didn’t care if she was putting him on.  He basked with the compliment, beaming.  Tony stared at him like he didn’t recognize him.  Truth be told, right then, Steve wasn’t sure he recognized himself.  The awkward quiet carried on for a bit, the baby greedily gulping the bottle and Steve settling himself into the chair beside the table like he had before.  Then Tony cleared his throat, rolling his eyes at Steve with the tiniest grin imaginable on his face.  Steve hadn’t expected that at all.  “Okay, back to our regularly scheduled discussion.  You were saying, Doctor Banner?”

Bruce grunted a little, amazed and pleased and worried all at once.  That wasn’t hard to fathom.  “Yeah, okay.  Right.  So she’s more you than her mother, Steve, whoever she was.  However they did that, I’m sure their aim was to try and get the best possible chance of reproducing the serum.”

“She has the serum then?” Steve asked worriedly.

Bruce winced apologetically.  “I can’t answer that right now.  The genetic analysis is still running.  I’m basing all of this on the preliminary results.”  Steve looked down away from the numbers and images of his DNA glowing on the computer screen to the baby nestled in his arms.  Her eyes were open as she drank.  Open and staring at him.  This was the first time she’d really looked at him.  Rebecca had told him that newborns couldn’t see very well, but somehow he knew she was seeing him.  Bruce was still talking, and he knew he should pay attention.  It was hard, though.  Something about this, as crazy as it seemed, felt very right.  “–keep working on the gene sequencing.  But you need to be prepared that I might not be able to figure that out.  Nobody knows exactly how the serum altered your DNA.  If we did, reproducing it wouldn’t be so impossible.”

“So it’s going to be difficult to find it in hers since you can’t find it in Steve’s,” Clint concluded.

“Difficult, but not necessarily impossible.  We do know some of the genetic markers of the serum.  Based on my research, I might be able to find a way to validate them in hers.  Still, you need to understand.  There’s never been another baby like this.  The complexities of the super soldier serum aside, she was _designed_.  The random genetic variability was controlled in a very specific manner.  Genetic abnormalities like these usually manifest themselves in natural termination of the fetus.  Nature taking care of it, so to speak.  And if not the aberrations could lead to any number of serious disorders and defects.  She doesn’t seem to be manifesting any sign of a problem, but I have no idea what that could mean in terms of stability in the long run.”

That sounded ominous.  And more than a little upsetting.  Steve’s heart clenched painfully in his chest as his mind immediately leapt to worst possibilities.  “Wait.  What are you saying?”

Bruce opened his mouth to explain further, but Natasha spoke before he could.  “What he’s saying is we need to keep an extra careful eye on her, that’s all.”

Clint shook his head.  “We?”

“The royal ‘we’,” Tony threw in before anyone could interject.  He was staring at Steve, still uncomfortable with himself as much as he was with this entire situation.  That little proud smile was gone again with renewed understanding of the gravity of it all.  “And that’s it for right now.”  Not that was it, period.  So maybe that was something.

There was a knock at the door.  The Avengers all looked over to it, surprised at the interruption.  Tony walked over to the observation window, which had been tinted to opaque for privacy, and tapped a button on the keypad adjacent to it so they could see outside.  It was Thor.  Tony unlocked the door and Thor came inside.  “It was mildly disconcerting to awaken to an empty tower,” he declared in a low rumble, appraising his friends.  He was dressed in standard Midgardian attire, black jeans and a maroon Oxford shirt underneath a black jacket.  His blond hair was gathered into a pony tail.  When his eyes fell upon Steve holding the baby, his expression loosened into one of surprise.  “I see the man in the walls was not playing some farce upon me.”

“No farce,” Tony said.  “Here.  Come meet little Miss America.”

Thor’s face was lax with wonder, like he couldn’t decide whether or not he wanted to.  Or whether or not he believed what he was seeing.  And then he smiled.  _Smiled._   He was the only one who really had, and it went straight to Steve’s heart like a warm gust of wind.  “It is a girl child,” he said.

“Apparently,” Tony supplied, “though how you can tell without all the pink is beyond me.”

Thor came closer, huge himself in this small space, and laid a hand on Steve’s shoulder.  Of all of the Avengers, Steve found Thor to be the most like himself.  This wasn’t to say they were the same sort.  Thor had a huge personality that bordered on arrogant at times.  He was brash and a tad overconfident.  He was loud and gregarious, and all of these things Steve was not.  However, Thor was brave, loyal, and strong.  He was a simple man, surprisingly complacent about the little things and always ready to laugh, and he was as lost in this crazy new world teeming with modern technology as Steve was.  They had bonded over that almost immediately, developing an easy friendship.  “It is plain to see, Stark.  She is beautiful.”

 _Beautiful_.  Nobody had said _that_ , either.  Steve had thought it, but hearing Thor’s appreciative declaration made it true and affirmed in some place other than the quiet of his heart.  Thor’s hands were large, as large and built of hard muscles and taut sinew and tendons as Steve’s were.  The hands of a warrior and a soldier.  Still, they were tender as they carefully caressed along the baby’s dark hair.  Thor smiled a genuine smile.  “What name have you bestowed upon her?”

Her name.  Steve hadn’t even thought about that.  “Does she have one?” he asked, turning to Bruce and Tony.

Bruce shrugged.  “Not that I saw from the lab’s files.”

“And does it matter if she did?” Tony added.  “We wouldn’t use it.”

No, they wouldn’t.  Steve looked back down on the baby.  She was drifting to sleep now, with Thor’s hand on her tiny head.  She was sucking on the bottle just to suck, not to drink.  Steve pulled it away and her little lips were still pursed and moving.  Clint had found another pacifier, which Steve gently tried to push into her mouth.  She didn’t seem to want it, and he didn’t want to disturb her, so he gave up and set it to the stand beside the chair.  He felt the eyes of the team on him, watching and waiting again for him to make the decision.  For him to lead them.  “You should name her, Steve,” Natasha finally declared after a silent beat.  She’d come closer, too, standing behind Steve on his other side.

“What?  Oh.  I don’t know if I–”

“Why not?” Clint said.

“She’s going to need a name,” Tony said, “no matter what.”  He held Steve’s gaze a moment, unsure himself of what he was suggesting.  Like giving the baby a name would make it official.  Maybe it did, although what was becoming official, Steve didn’t know.  This just felt monumental, as if doing this meant something couldn’t be undone.

So he hesitated.  But not because he didn’t know what he wanted to name her.  That came easy.  Eventually he convinced himself that it was okay.  That he had the right – the honor and responsibility – to do this.  “Sarah,” he said.  “Sarah Margaret.”  He looked up at the team.   “After my mother.  And Peggy.”  The two women who had meant the most to him in his life who were gone from him now.

Thor smiled warmly.  “It is a fine name,” he said in approval, “a strong name, and one fit for the daughter of our captain.”

 _My daughter._   He thought about it, turned it around and around in his head, and this time he didn’t feel so uncertain or daunted.  She was his daughter.  Sarah was _his_ daughter.  He gazed down at the baby in his arms again, feeling surer of himself than he had since Fury had summoned him here.  Sarah was his daughter, no matter how that had come to happen.  He couldn’t just walk away from that, even if he wanted to.  And he didn’t want to.

The others were talking.  Bruce and Tony were bringing Thor up to speed, Thor who understood nothing of the science, of course, but understood plenty about the injustice, immorality, and unfairness inherent in all of it.  He stood close to Steve as though Steve required protection (from what, Steve didn’t know, but it would be a bit of lie to say that having Thor – heck, having _all_ of the Avengers – guarding him like this wasn’t just a tad bit comforting).  It was like they were closing ranks, literally if not figuratively.  Of course, Steve naming the baby didn’t _mean_ anything in the long run.  Logically Tony was right; she’d needed a name.  But it felt like something more than that, and they all knew it.  That monumental moment hadn’t just been monumental to Steve.  Still Tony looked worried and displeased as he glanced off and on during the discussion to his friend.  He seemed just a tad bit more accepting, his gaze soft and understanding.  Maybe Steve was imagining it, but it felt good to think it, so he did.

“We’re going to leave for a while, Cap,” Clint announced.  “See what we can find out about Agent May and this team of hers.  I don’t know.  If you think Fury’s keep something from you about it, he probably is.”

Natasha nodded in agreement.  “I guarantee you there’s information out there.  Whatever Fury’s got them doing is obviously a well-kept secret.  We’ll get the intel.”  Steve nodded, fully believing they would.  The two SHIELD agents were gone with small smiles.

Then Bruce heaved out a sigh.  “Tony, can you fly me and all of this data back to the Tower?  I’d like to bring JARVIS in on it, as well as the computing cluster there.  Maybe it can churn through these permutations faster.”

Tony nodded.  “I need to send Happy to get Pepper anyway.  She should be here in a couple of hours.  Then we’ll come back and try to figure this out.”  He folded his arms over his chest, regarding Steve in concern.  “That okay with you, Cap?  I mean, about taking the data out of here.”

“Yeah, that’s fine,” Steve said.  It was fine, for the moment anyway.  There was a veritable slew of issues looming on the horizon, but he didn’t have the energy or strength to worry about them now.

Tony nodded.  “Alright.  I’ll be back soon.”  Then they were gone, too, though not without Tony offering Steve one last parting look that spoke of worry and doubt and even fear.  Stark was so rarely afraid, at least not in a way that was this noticeable.  He was trying to hide it with sarcasm and wit like he always did, but Steve knew him too well to be fooled.

“I can stay with you, if you wish it of me,” Thor promised.

Steve winced and shook his head.  “No, it’s fine.  I, uh…  Maybe this is strange, but I’d kind of like to be alone with her.  If that’s okay.”

Thor smiled without a hint of disapproval or hurt in his eyes.  “Of course it is okay.  You needn’t ask me, Steve.”  He dropped his hand gently to Sarah’s head once more.  “I shall return in a few hours.”

“Thanks,” Steve said.  Thor nodded and took his leave.

So now he was alone with her again, but even in these short hours since he’d held her last, she felt different to him.  _He_ felt different.  More certain in some ways, yes.  He was absolutely certain that he needed to _do_ something other than turn his back on this.  But he was even more uncertain about other things, like what exactly he should do and _how_ he was supposed to do it.  Maybe nobody would fault him for walking away.  He was certain his team wouldn’t, and SHIELD wouldn’t dream of disparaging him for its own mistakes.  But Steve would never allow himself to do it.  Never.  Not before, and certainly not now.  That wasn’t who he was.  He was a good man, and no matter how this had happened, a good man he would stay.

The minutes drifted away.  Steve watched Sarah sleep.  He watched her breathe against him, marveling at the newness and smallness of life.  And the strength of it.  His mind slipped to darker thoughts, to what would have happened to her had she not been found and rescued.  To what still could happen if she had the serum inside her, or if she didn’t, or if Bruce’s worries about the stability of her state were true…  But God had brought her to him, as inexplicable as that was, and maybe it was a blessing rather than a mistake or a bad twist of fate.  His mother had always taught him that God worked in mysterious ways.  That was a comfort now, even if he realized it was a little trite.  He sighed slowly, carefully sliding his hand through the blankets in search of hers.  Her tiny hand curled over the thickness of his forefinger, velvety soft skin against rough calluses from his shield.  She sighed contentedly in her sleep, her mouth open with deep, comfortable breaths.  Steve rubbed his thumb over her small fingers, so fragile yet so powerful already in their hold over him.  He bent down slightly to press his lips to her forehead.  “Don’t worry,” he whispered.  “Whatever’s going to happen, we’re in it together.”  He smiled faintly.  “You and me.”


	4. Chapter 4

“Steve?”

Steve jerked awake and nearly fell from the cot.  He grimaced, both from the shot of pain up his sore left side and from embarrassment.  He looked up blearily.  “What time is it?” he grumbled, blinking and rubbing the heel of his palm in one eye when that wasn’t enough to clear the cobwebs.

Tony smiled faintly.  “Dinnertime,” he answered, lifting a bag in one hand.  “Cap-napping, I see?”

Steve yawned.  “Running low on sleep,” he mumbled.  He had been, really.  He had been _before_ all of this.  Mission after mission.  Racing around the world on the behalf of SHIELD.  Leading the Avengers.  Downtime was scarcely found, a precious thing that even he with his strong work ethic and willingness to do pretty much anything to help coveted.  He should have been resting back at the Tower that day, catching up on sleep, lounging in the common room with the team.  It was Sunday, and it one of the rare occasions in which everyone was around (more or less), so Tony had scheduled a movie night a few days ago.  By now they would have had dinner together, whatever Steve cooked or Tony ordered, and they would have probably argued already about what to watch.  Tony and Clint in particular went at it, joking and sniping at each other with Natasha and occasionally Bruce throwing in their two cents (usually to just veto whatever suggestions the other two made during the debate).  Steve and Thor would sit on the couch, watching and laughing because they had no opinions of their own, of course, since their knowledge of 21st century pop culture was decidedly lacking (a fact which Clint and Tony used and abused to no end).  Usually JARVIS would end up selecting something, and they’d all settle down and enjoy it.  That was what he should have been doing.  Recovering.  Relaxing.  Spending a moment being Steve Rogers instead of Captain America.  But he was here, on the helicarrier, trapped in a whirlwind that was too unbelievable to even be a dream.

And he was a father.

“I bet.”  Tony glanced over at Sarah, who was sound asleep in a little bassinet that was more like a rolling examination cart that had been outfitted with sides to keep her from falling.  She was cocooned in a pink blanket, swaddled (Rebecca had returned an hour or so ago to show him how to do that – it was a tad intimidating about how tight he was supposed to wrap her, but Rebecca had insisted that newborns liked to be confined so snugly) with a little pink cap on her head.  Getting her to sleep after her last bottle had been something of a challenge, one that had frankly taken Steve by surprise.  She’d fussed for quite a while after drinking her milk, squirming in his arms like she was uncomfortable for a good thirty minutes.  He hadn’t understood why, and his helplessness had left him worried and rattled.  Rebecca had said it was normal, that babies fuss and cry and sometimes there was no explanation.  She’d suggested burping her, rocking her, bouncing, swaying and singing and walking or anything that soothed her.  He tried it all in varying and more and more desperate combinations, and finally when he’d just about been terrified that there was something really wrong, Sarah had dropped off to sleep, sucking on her pacifier against his chest again.  After that, he’d been hesitant to set her down for a while, fearing she’d awake and start crying anew.  Eventually he convinced himself it would be alright and he’d laid her in the bassinet.  She’d thankfully stayed peaceful, and he’d found himself slumping onto the cot Rebecca and one of the other nurses had brought in for him.  That escapade had taken a lot out of him, and the next thing he knew, he’d drifted off to sleep.

He couldn’t have been down for more than twenty or thirty minutes.  “What’s that?” he asked, eyeing the brown paper bag Tony was carrying.  His answer came in the form of a sweet and distinctive aroma, one he recognized immediately.  He looked up at his friend, disbelief furrowing his brow.  “You didn’t.”

“All the way from Thai Taste.  Pad thai and curry fried rice and those little meat things they have on sticks.”  Steve looked at the bag again and then at Tony, who was smiling a ridiculously proud smile.  “I snuck it in.  Just for you.  Tell me you love me.”

The fact that Tony had ordered some Thai take-out, had delivered it from DC, and had somehow brought it aboard one of the most secure aircraft in the world was so ridiculous that Steve could only dumbly nod.  “I love you?”

“Don’t sound so sure of yourself.”  Tony moved fast, rolling another cart closer by snagging it with his foot.  He set his bag down on the little table, quickly unloading their food and a couple of cans of soda.  “Where did Thor go?”

Steve’s mouth watered when Tony pulled the lids off his food.  It was still steaming, despite the fact it had probably taken some time to get it all the way from the nation’s capital to the helicarrier.  “He was meeting Jane for dinner.  I guess she’s back from some big conference in Australia.  He offered to stay, but I told him to go.  No sense in him breaking his date.”

Tony cocked an eyebrow and handed Steve a plastic fork and a napkin before uncovering his own meal.  “Any word from our resident super spies?”

Steve shook his head.  “No.”

“Give it time.”

“What about Bruce?  Has he learned anything?”  Steve tried not to sound anxious, but he failed.  He was worried.  Really worried.  This entire situation was hardly twelve hours old, and he was already far more frightened for Sarah and whatever genetic abnormalities she might have because of how she was made than he ever had been for himself.  It was a hungry worry, one that really wasn’t placated by logic or soothed by his normal composed patience.  It wasn’t appeased, no matter how many times he looked at the baby and tried to make himself believe that everything was okay.  This was crazy enough without the added stress of worrying about her health.

Tony seemed to appreciate that.  “Not yet.  But you know Bruce.  He’ll figure it out.  He always does.  Plus he has me.  And JARVIS.  It’s a recipe for scientific genius.”  Steve smiled faintly as Tony sat beside him on the cot, positioning the cart so it was like a little table in front of him.  He cracked open his can of Pepsi and tipped it to Steve’s.  “Cheers?”

Steve gave a little incredulous laugh.  He took a drink from his can and went to work on his dinner.  They ate in companionable silence for a while.  The pad thai tasted wonderful, the first thing that really had all day, and he made himself slow down to savor it a little despite his renewed hunger.  Tony twirled noodles around his fork.  “You want me to ask you if you’re okay?”

Steve sighed.  “You can ask, but I don’t have an answer.  I don’t know.”

“Wow, honesty!  Nice change from before.  But I’ve had you bleeding to death all over me and still insisting it was only a flesh wound, so I guess lying through your teeth is one of your hidden skills.”  Steve shot Tony a weak glare.  Tony smiled unapologetically.  “It’s okay, you know.  You don’t have to have an answer.”

“Feel like I should.”

“Why?  Because you’re Captain America?  The Man with the Plan?”  Tony shook his head.  “It’s not Captain America in here taking care of a baby.”

Steve grimaced after chewing and swallowing.  “Maybe, but it’s because of Captain America that she was… made.”

“Well, let’s just not think about that right now.  You got enough on your plate.  Speaking of which, here’s your rice.”  Tony handed him the container full of the curry fried rice.  “Yeah, so I dropped off Bruce.  Picked Pep up from LaGuardia.  I guess I’m everyone’s chauffeur.  She’s back at the Tower, by the way.  She wanted to come, but I couldn’t get her cleared through SHIELD.  Dinner I could hide in my coat, at least.”  A dark expression crossed Tony’s face.  He paused with his fork halfway to his mouth to gripe.  “Considering all she’s helped them over the last couple of years, you’d think they’d be more appreciative.”

Steve shrugged.  “Fury’s just trying to keep this quiet.”

“Oh, come on, Steve.  Don’t tell me you’re alright with what happened.  The number of times SHIELD has flat-out lied to our faces is ridiculously high, and those are just the times we _know_ of.  You remember what I said, right, back in the lab that day when we were looking for the Tesseract?”

“You mean when you shocked Bruce just to see what would happen?” Steve said.  “Shoulda known then and there that you were into pushing buttons labeled ‘do not push’.”

Now it was Tony’s turn to saddle him with a mock glare.  “Don’t change the subject.  I told you that Fury’s secrets have secrets.  They still do.  I know you and Clint and Natasha are knee-deep in SHIELD’s affairs, but there’s a reason why I make such a pain in the ass out of myself every time Fury wants my help.  This?  What happened here?  Inexcusable.”

Steve looked down at his half-eaten container of pad thai.  “You think I don’t know that?  What good does getting upset about it do?”

“Well, it might make you feel better for starters,” Tony answered.  Steve shook his head.  “A normal person would feel better, anyway.”

“Tony–”

“Okay.  Never mind.  Let’s just…”  Tony didn’t finish, smart enough to realize that Steve didn’t want to talk about this.  It definitely needed to be discussed.  SHIELD had violated his privacy in a huge way, and maybe it hadn’t been their fault that _this_ had resulted from it, but they’d taken blood and other samples from Steve while he’d been unconscious without his consent or knowledge and _kept_ them.  It didn’t matter if their intentions had been good.  SHIELD _always_ said its intentions were good, for the benefit of world security or the wellbeing and safety of humanity.  In their eyes, the ends always justified the means.  Steve didn’t agree, but he was capable of turning a blind eye to their less than respectable maneuvers when it was necessary to get the job done.  This, however…  Tony was right.  It was inexcusable.

Tony chugged the rest of his soda and crushed the empty can in his hand.  He tossed it toward the waste basket over on the other side of the room.  It hit the rim, twirled precariously for a moment, and tumbled inside.  “Score,” he said, grinning.  “How is it?”

“Really good, Tony,” Steve answered, and it was, even if he’d lost his appetite a little.  He was realizing this whole thing was much more bearable when he ignored how Sarah had come into being.  So much easier.  Maybe that was stupid and foolish, but that was all he could do right now.

“She’s cute.”  The declaration came out of nowhere.  Steve found Tony staring at Sarah’s sleeping body, snuggled and wrapped so tightly in the pink blanket.  Steve stared at her for a moment, too, taking in again the features of her face and feeling that increasingly familiar swell of warmth and love inside him.  Tony grunted.  “There.  I said it.  She’s cute.”

Steve knew how hard it was for Tony to be okay with this.  It didn’t take someone as close to Tony as he was to realize that the self-proclaimed billionaire play-boy philanthropist didn’t like children.  Tony was a free spirit, well-set in his ways (as crazy and seemingly unpredictable as those ways were).  He enjoyed the freedom his wealth, smarts, and good-looks had afforded him.  He might have at one point been irresponsible, but he wasn’t now and hadn’t been since the Avengers had formed and taken up residence in Stark Tower.  Still, he hadn’t had the best childhood himself.  That had been a bit of a sore spot between Steve and Tony in the timid beginnings of their friendship, that the great man Steve had known in Howard Stark had irreparably changed into a something less than a stellar father.  Tony had spent his youth alone, in the company of his inventions and his nannies and butlers rather than his parents.  He’d struggled to earn his father’s approval, but before he ever had, Howard had been killed.  Tony’s feelings of resentment and abandonment were still unresolved, though he was definitely more at peace with himself now than he had been when they’d met.

Tony sighed and asked the question that everybody was thinking but nobody thus far had had the guts to actually ask.  “What are you going to do?”

And now that the question was out there, Steve couldn’t keep ignoring it.  And he couldn’t lie.  “I don’t know.”  He closed his eyes and sank tiredly into the hard surface of the wall behind him.  “My heart says one thing.  My head’s saying another.”

“You’re Captain America.”  Steve grimaced, angry and defensive for reasons he didn’t want to acknowledge.  “You’re an Avenger.  You’re a SHIELD agent.  There’s no room for a kid in any of that.”

“You think I don’t know that?”

“Well, if you know it and you’re smart and I know it and I’m a genius, then it’s true.”  That didn’t make him feel one bit better.  It didn’t make Tony feel better either, if the dark, unsettled look in his eyes was any indication.  He was staring at Sarah’s peaceful face.  “What we do is too dangerous.  Too unpredictable.  You can’t lead our team with a baby back at the Tower.”

“I know, Tony.”

“Then why are you even thinking about this?”

“Because what are the alternatives?”  Steve was on his feet, pacing the tiny room in an uncharacteristic show of rattled nerves and raw uncertainty.  “I’m really asking here, because I don’t see them.  Giving her away?  Leaving her with SHIELD?”

“No,” Tony said stiffly.  “No way.”

Steve sighed sharply.  “If she’s got the serum, she’ll never have a normal life.  Never.  It’ll never be safe, not for her or the people around her.  We can’t ask some innocent folks who know nothing about who we are to take in a child like this, not to mention that whoever did this in the first place is going to want her back!  We can’t endanger her or anyone else like that!  And if she doesn’t have the serum…  If Bruce is right and however they made her ends up not…”  His voice broke and he couldn’t finish.

Tony took pity on him, standing as well and grabbing Steve’s arm.  “Hey.  There’s no reason to leap to the worst possibility.  Bruce is a swell guy, but he’s something of a pessimist.  Take it from someone who continually has to listen to him work through his problems.”

Steve shook his head and leaned into the wall, feeling broken and not at all relieved.  Exhausted, he closed his eyes.  “And if she doesn’t have the serum and she inherited all of _my_ problems, well, I saw what that did to my mother.  I _know_ what it did to me.”

“That was seventy years ago.  Seventy years of miracles in medicine.  People don’t die from scarlet fever and pneumonia like they used to.  A bad immune system isn’t a death sentence anymore.  We can treat heart defects.  We can treat asthma.  We can treat almost anything in some way or another.  And I can’t speak for your mother, but I don’t recall your health problems stopping you much.  Or are all those stories about you trying to get into the army five times a bunch of bull?”

“It’s not that simple.”

“Sure it is.  We’ll find her a home.  I’m not talking about dumping her in the system or an orphanage or whatever.  No way.  I’m talking about _finding_ her some parents.  There are tons of loving couples out there who can’t get pregnant and would die to have a baby.  _Tons._ ”  Steve knew that, had thought it himself.  But the idea felt _wrong_ on a fundamental level.  “We can find people who’d be wonderful for her, who’d give her a real family.  It can be done in strict secrecy.  No one has to know.  It’ll be safe.  Plus she’ll have the Avengers watching her from afar.  And she’d be set for life.  I’d take care of it.  Anything she needs.  Money for clothes and toys and school.  Whatever.  You know I would.”

“I know.”

“Then what’s the matter?”

Steve opened his eyes and tipped his head back, staring up at the ceiling.  A tense silence followed that persisted a moment.  Tony was painting a nice picture.  He knew Tony could make it happen.  He had the wealth and the clout to do anything.  But it was a nice _picture_.  It wasn’t real.  Steve chewed it over in his head again, but it was perfunctory because he _knew_ what the problem was.  He’d known it for hours.  “It’s not right.  I’m her father.”

Tony sighed, a tad exasperated.  “That’s just a word, Steve.  All it means is you biologically bestowed half – well, apparently more than half – of your genes onto someone else.”

“It means more than that,” Steve responded.  “You know, I grew up without a father, too.  It hurts, and it’s hard.”

If Tony was upset with that comment which not so subtly struck so close to home, he didn’t show it.  “She can have a father, just not you.  I’m not saying fathers aren’t important.  I’m just saying that being a good dad?  That’s not just passing on your DNA.  It’s a choice, a big one, and it’s not one you have to make just because this happened.”  Steve glanced at Tony out of the corner of his eye.  Tony was watching him openly, earnestly.  He heaved a heavy breath after a long moment and glanced back at Sarah.  “You know, Pepper and I…  We were talking about it.”  Steve cocked in eyebrow in surprise and turned away from the wall to regard his friend.  Tony rolled his eyes, like he was a little ashamed to be admitting this.  “Settling down.  Getting married.  Starting a family.  Well, she was.  I was mostly listening and nodding and pretending like I was comfortable with the idea.  She got pregnant, you know.”

Steve’s eyes widened.  “What?  When?”

Tony shrugged, but there was pain in his eyes that Steve hadn’t noticed before.  “A while ago.  It was an accident.  I don’t know; those things happen, right?  They always put it on the box that it’s 99% effective.  I guess this was the 1%.”  Tony looked away, back at the baby.  “She miscarried early in the first trimester, so early that if she hadn’t taken the test we might not have ever even known.  She was upset, but she did a good job at hiding it.  And we sat down, you know, and had ‘the talk’.”  He used air quotations, but it didn’t really add much mirth to the story.  “And we decided it wasn’t the right time.  She’s running Stark Industries.  I’m, well, me.  Marriage, kids…  It doesn’t fit in with our lives.”

Steve swallowed thickly.  “Tony, I’m sorry.”

“Eh.  It was for the best.  Maybe it makes me as screwed up as I think I am sometimes, but I felt… _relieved_ that it happened the way it did.  That’s selfish, but I can’t help it.  I’m not cut out to be a dad.”  Steve thought that was a load of nonsense, but he didn’t say anything.  Tony’s feelings concerning his father and fatherhood in general were like a swampy mess, and he didn’t want to go wading into the muck.  “Point is: what we do?  Who we are?  We’re the Avengers.  For better or for worse, this is the way it is.  You know how dangerous our world is.  As long as we’re doing what we do, we can’t do anything else.”

Immediately Steve opened his mouth to argue, but he found that the words on the tip of his tongue just wouldn’t come out.  And that made him think.  What if Tony had a point?  No, there was no _what if_ about it.  Tony _did_ have a point.  They were Avengers, and he was Captain America.  Between the missions he did for SHIELD and running the team and even the public functions he performed (the charity event that had been canceled that night for example), his life was chaos that even he disliked sometimes.  And it was more than dangerous.  Sure, Steve was an expert combatant and he healed fast, but that didn’t negate the fact that if you hit him hard enough and in the right places, he could still be seriously hurt or even killed.  Furthermore, his identity was hardly secret.  The evil in the world knew who he was, where was he was, and he had more enemies than he cared to think about.  What kind of life could he really provide for Sarah?  Could he really force her to live like that?  Maybe it wasn’t a problem now, but when she got older, could he leave her behind with her fearing he wouldn’t come home?  Could he let his work put her at risk?  Maybe he was being selfish even considering what he was considering.  Maybe–

The door to the room slid open.  A few SHIELD agents quickly came inside.  Steve turned, his eyes narrowing in suspicion.  Tony instantly went rigid at his side.  “Okay, so maybe I shouldn’t have snuck the food in.”

“What’s going on?” Steve demanded.  He was at the bassinet’s side, standing protectively between the unwanted visitors and Sarah.

Rebecca pushed her way in behind the agents.  “Captain, I tried to stop them,” she cried, her face white and tight with worry.  “I told them they couldn’t come in, but they insisted!”

“Captain Rogers, Mr. Stark,” one of the agents said.  He was an older fellow, with shortly cropped salt and pepper hair.  He was dressed sharply in a gray suit.  “I’m Agent Blake.  I’m here to take the infant to a secure location.”

“What?” Tony snapped.

Anger and fear pulsed through Steve.  “On whose orders?”

Blake was cool, like he was expecting a fight and well prepared to win it.  “Mine.” 

* * *

Today had been strange for certain, and it was about to get stranger.  Tony Stark had somehow, inexplicably and unpredictably, become the voice of reason.  “Let’s just cool down everyone, alright?”

“The child should never have been brought here to begin with.  Agent May breached protocol.”

“What?  So you could have hidden her away in one of your labs to be a guinea pig for your experiments?”

“Captain, no one is suggesting anything so inhumane as that.”

“Well, that’s what it damn well sounds like!”

“Steve, take it easy,” Tony said.

“Tell me how I’m supposed to interpret it then,” Steve hotly said, leaning over Fury’s desk.  They were in the Director’s office adjacent to the bridge of the helicarrier.  Fury sat, wearily appraising Steve and looking increasingly worried that this altercation wasn’t going to end well.  Agent Felix Blake (who was about as humorless and arrogant as he had first seemed) was at the other side of Fury’s desk, his arms folded obstinately across his chest.  And Tony (bless him) was in the middle, trying to maintain some semblance of peace.  “Tell me what you really mean when you say you want to take her to a secure facility for testing.  What the hell is this Sandbox place?”

Blake looked annoyed.  “It’s SHIELD’s best research installation, where we assess the extent of biological and chemical threats.”

“And a three-week old baby is a threat,” Steve snapped, straightening and setting his hands to his hips.

“When she contains your DNA, yes, she is,” Blake said.

“Which you took without my permission,” Steve returned.  “If it hadn’t been for SHIELD violating my privacy like that, this would have never happened!”  Suddenly the fury that had been struggling to simmer all day was at a full blown boil, scalding his heart and driving him forward.  It had been since Blake and his buddies had shown up and attempted to remove Sarah from the medical bay.  As the incident had escalated, Blake insisting he had the right to take the baby from the premises and Steve adamantly refuting that, Tony had calmly suggested they take this dispute up with Fury before it came to blows.  Steve had planted himself pretty solidly between Blake and Sarah.  He was Captain America; he’d like to have seen these agents attempt to get past him.  Blake had obviously realized his chances of doing that were pretty small, because he’d conceded with a scowl that Fury needed to be involved.  And Steve had agreed if only for civility’s sake, because, despite how much he wanted to, he couldn’t very well just take Sarah and leave the ship.

Could he?

Regardless, right now the baby was with Rebecca, who had sworn to him that _no one_ would get into the makeshift nursery until she heard otherwise from him or from Fury.  However, it was becoming more and more obvious that Fury wasn’t exactly Steve’s ally in this argument.  The SHIELD Director stood from his chair.  The monitors in front of him were teeming with data, reports, and activity, but he swiped all that away as he got to his feet.  “Cap, please.  We’re all on the same side here.  You know that,” he placated.  _Placated._   One step above patronizing for all intents and purposes.  “You have no idea how sorry I am that this happened, but it’s too late to go back.  We can only look forward.  We need answers, and we need to contain the situation.  The infant will be safe at the Sandbox.  She’ll receive excellent care.  Furthermore, it’s among the most secure installations SHIELD has to offer, and our top minds in biochemistry and genetics are there.  We have to figure out how this was done.”

“Yes, we do,” Steve agreed, “but not like this.  If you want answers about the serum and my genes, you can get them from me, not from her.  I’ll gladly do whatever you want.  But you are not taking my child halfway across the globe to be a lab rat.”

“Your child?” Blake said.  The incredulity in his voice was completely unmasked.  “Oh, please, Captain.  With all due respect, the infant isn’t your child.”

Steve could hardly control his temper.  The emotional rollercoaster of the day had been wearing at his cool, and this confrontation was rubbing like sandpaper over the wafer-thin thing that vaguely resembled his restraint.  “She _is_ my child.  She has my DNA, doesn’t she?  You said so yourself when you called me here, Nick.”  He turned his firm gaze to the SHIELD Director.  “You said she’s mine.”

Fury shook his head.  “I did not intend for that to be taken literally,” he said with a note of resignation in his tone.

“How else did you want me to take it?” Steve asked.  “To tell you ‘that’s nice’ and ‘do whatever you think is best’ and be on my way?”  Did these people know him at all?

Blake was unmoved.  His face was stern and he seemed irritated, like he had some place better to be and being forced into this debate was only wasting his time.  Normally Steve wasn’t one for solving problems with violence, but he really wanted to smack the condescending glower from the man’s face.  “Yes, Captain.  That’s what you need to do.  _Walk away._ This infant–”

“Her name is Sarah,” Steve said.

Fury’s expression was a hybrid of surprise and irritation.  “You named her?”  His one eye immediately darted to Stark.

Tony raised his hands.  “Hey, don’t look at me.  It was Romanoff who told him to do it.  Blame her.”  Steve turned and gave Tony a wan frown.  The inventor sighed.  “Look, there’s no reason to argue about this.  You want a secure location for the kid?  She can stay at Stark Tower.  You want experts to look her over?  Banner’s already on it.  You want protection?  You got the Avengers.  There.  Problem solved.”

Steve couldn’t believe it.  Warm appreciation rolled over him, dousing the fires of his anger just a bit and easing the pain of his fear, and the scowl loosened on his face as he beheld his friend.  His friend, who was going to do this for him even if he didn’t agree.  His friend, who was standing by him in every sense of the word, even if he didn’t think this was a good idea.

“She needs to be in a restricted SHIELD facility,” Blake interjected.  The agent came closer, too close to Steve for his comfort, and leaned into Fury’s desk.  Not many people were this bold in front of Nick Fury.  Or in the faces of Captain America and Iron Man.  “Sir, I’m in charge of overseeing the Sandbox.  It’s my job to make decisions of this nature.  We have no idea what we’re dealing with, with all due respect to Captain Rogers.  Whoever is responsible for creating this child needs to be found and stopped.  We don’t even know if she’s the only baby they managed to produce!”

That sense of relief was quickly gone.  Steve felt like he had been dropped hundreds of feet into a vat of ice water.  For some reason that idea hadn’t occurred to him.  _A lot_ of this had never occurred to him.  Wasn’t it enough that he’d been unwillingly and unwittingly involved in the creation of one life?  Now they were wondering if his DNA had been used to breed an army?  That thought made him positively sick, his heart thundering shallowly in his chest, and _violation_ didn’t begin to describe the depths of his horror.  “Alright, first of all, there is _no_ indication of that,” Tony said.  He hadn’t missed the distressed look on Steve’s face.  “Let’s just deal with the one super soldier baby we have instead of worrying about the slim, hypothetical possibility that there could be other super soldier babies out there that we don’t know about.”  Blake actually had the decency to look rebuked, and he stepped away from Steve slightly.  “Second, Cap’s right.  This is his kid.  You can’t just take her.”

“There’s not exactly a lot of legal precedent for a situation like this,” Blake said, though his voice was softer.  “It’s not well-defined as to who has custody.”

Tony turned, now more irritated.  “You wanna bring lawyers into this?  I hate ’em, but I know a few really good ones.  _Really_ good ones.  The best money can buy.  Literally.  If you start this fight, you will lose.”

“Okay, no, we don’t need to involve any lawyers,” Fury quickly declared.  He turned his gaze to Steve again.  “Look, Cap, I’m not disputing that you have a say in this.  But you have to realize that the child needs to be monitored in a contained environment.  Agent Blake is right.  We have no idea what we’re dealing with, not what she’s capable of or if the people who created her are out looking for her.  This isn’t something we can take lightly.”

“I’m not,” Steve returned tightly.  “I am dead serious.  She is my daughter, and you are _not_ taking her away from me.  I don’t care what you say.”

Fury seemed frustrated, looking down at one of the tablets on his desk.  “It would be easier for everyone if you would be reasonable.  You need to let us do our jobs.  I was hoping I could get you to sign this,” he softly announced, lifting the pad and handing it to Steve.

Steve started to read quickly.  He didn’t need to get much beyond the first paragraph before he quit.  Tony snatched the pad from him and looked it over.  “Geez, for not wanting to bring in the lawyers, you sure brought in the lawyers,” he said flippantly, even if he wasn’t at all amused.  “Terminate all paternal rights?  Relinquish custody?  Don’t sign this, Steve.”

“I wasn’t going to,” Steve responded.

Fury wasn’t at all happy about that.  “Rethink it, soldier.  This is a way out for everyone, the best possible solution.  It’s clean and tidy and gets the child the best care possible while protecting our interests, your interests, and her interests.  This doesn’t have to disrupt your life,” Fury said, like he could possibly champion that position without sounding like a heartless jerk.  It didn’t help that his tone said “it’s an order”.  And was it Steve’s life he was concerned about or Steve’s ability to lead the Avengers and fight evil on behalf of SHIELD?  What worried Fury more, the impact the baby could have on Steve as a person or Steve as a resource?

It didn’t matter.  “I don’t need to think about it.  I’m not signing it.”

“Cap, you better not be considering what I think you’re considering,” Fury said.  His tone was tenser, like he was realizing the extent of the situation.  It went beyond Steve’s objections to Blake transporting Sarah to the Sandbox.  It went beyond his concerns about what they would do to her there, about her safety and freedom and comfort.  It was way beyond any of that.  “You can’t just take the baby.”

“I can,” Steve insisted.  He didn’t care if he was being stubborn.  “I will.”

“Do you realize what you’re saying?  You’re an agent of SHIELD,” Fury shot back, his voice growing louder and tighter.  “You’re Captain America.”

“Then I won’t be Captain America!”

The exclamation was rough with frustration and desperation, and it left the room silent and alarmed in its wake.  Fury’s eye widened, and he leaned back slightly with the creak of leather, his angry scowl falling from his shocked face.  Blake glanced between Fury and Steve, surprised but mostly questioning.  Steve, for his own part, stood strong and obstinate, staring Fury down like he never had before.  Fury was in some senses his commanding officer, and he respected authority.  He had prior to joining the army even, so speaking so insubordinately in front of a superior wasn’t something he condoned let alone ever did.  But he didn’t drop his gaze out of respect or deference.  He didn’t back down.  _He wasn’t backing down._

Tony cleared his throat uncomfortably.  “Okay, let’s just dial the testosterone down a minute before this gets any more stupidly impulsive.  You,” he said, jabbing an index finger at Steve.  “You need to take a step back and cool off.  Seriously.”  Steve finally broke his gaze from Fury, and at seeing Tony’s silent plea that he ease off, he flushed a little with shame and moved away from the desk.  “And you two need to come back from La-La Land.  There are these little things called morals and ethics that sometimes get in the way of other little things called science and security.  It’s a pain in the butt, I know, but you can’t just wish or lawyer them away.  Believe me, I have tried, and it is a waste of time and money.”  Tony sighed slowly, like he was gathering his thoughts.  “Now let me make one thing clear.  Nobody, and I mean _nobody_ , is taking that baby without Steve’s consent.  Last I checked, we’re the good guys, and the good guys don’t do evil stuff like steal samples of someone’s DNA to play with or lock innocent children in labs for study.  Right?”

Tony Stark, the voice of reason.  What was the world coming to?

The quiet moment that followed was still tense but less so.  Tony glanced among the three men, like he was daring one of them to speak without his permission.  “Alright.  So like it or not, the baby has a name now.  That’s pretty symbolic, but it’s just incidental to the facts as they stand.  And the facts are that Steve’s attached morally, genetically, probably legally, and – _ugh_ – definitely emotionally to her.  So here’s how this is going to go.  She is going to come to Stark Tower, where she will be cared for, watched over, protected, and examined.  That way she can be close to her father–” Tony darted a look at Steve.  “–while Doctor Banner and I figure some things out.  What we figure out we will, on my honor, report to SHIELD.  And this will be the arrangement until we determine something better.  That way you guys don’t have to be complete jerks to your best soldier and the captain of your team of superheroes, and you–”  Another glance at Steve.  “–don’t have to make a rash decision you might regret later.  Agreed?”

Like a group of bickering children, the quiet dragged on until one party decided he needed to apologize.  Steve decided that one party wasn’t going to be him.  He didn’t care if it was petty and completely beneath him.  He wasn’t going to give Fury or Blake the satisfaction.  Thankfully, he didn’t have to.  Fury looked sufficiently resigned, nodding in fatigue and shaking his head.  “Alright.  We’ll do this your way, Stark.  For now.”

“Excellent.  Meeting adjourned.  Always fun dealing with you guys.”

Blake was surprised and more than aggravated.  “So that’s it?  Sir, you can’t just let them waltz out of here with that baby!  She’s–”

“What?  SHIELD property?  Does that make Captain America SHIELD property?”  Tony shook his head.  “Watch where you’re going with this.”

“She isn’t anyone’s property,” Blake huffed irately, clearly bothered by the words Tony had shoved into his mouth.  “But she’s a liability that needs to be closely monitored.  With all due respect, I don’t think a tower full of eccentric superheroes is the best environment for that!”

“Well, she’s not staying here,” Steve declared.  “If you want to be involved, that’s fine, but everything you do will be done at Stark Tower with the consent of Doctor Banner and Tony.”

“And you,” Tony softly prodded.

“And me.  I’m leaving, and I’m taking her with me.”  His unspoken threat was clear.  _Don’t try to stop me._

Blake didn’t seem like he was willing to admit he’d been bested, opening his mouth to argue further, but Fury raised his hand to stop his agent before he started.  “Fine.  If this is the way it has to be, then I’ll agree to it.  The last thing I want to see happen is Captain America walking away from SHIELD or the Avengers turning their backs on us.”  Apparently Steve’s play had had the desired effect.  He shared a quick look with Tony, but Tony was watching Fury.  “I want daily reports.  You’ll allow access to the baby for whatever doctors and specialists that Agent Blake and his team decide are necessary.”

“Fine,” Steve said.

“Fine,” Tony parroted.

“I’ll make arrangements to discharge the child to you.  Don’t make me regret this decision.  You’re dismissed, Captain,” Fury said.  He didn’t look at all pleased, but Steve couldn’t bring himself to care.  “Mr. Stark.”

The urge to run out of there was pretty strong, but Steve didn’t, standing tall and affording Blake a final, warning glare before following Tony out into the corridor.  Once they were safely out of Fury’s sight and away from the bridge, Tony sighed dramatically.  “Well, this is great.  I don’t have the slightest clue what we just got ourselves into, but I have a feeling I’m going to find out and regret it immediately and profusely–”  Tony was cut off by Steve hugging him.  Tight.  Steve squeezed his eyes shut, his heart pounding.  He hadn’t realized how afraid he’d been, afraid that they were going to steal Sarah away from him and he’d never see her again.  He knew how SHIELD worked, how powerful it was.  He knew what SHIELD was capable of doing.  If Fury or Blake wanted to keep him from his daughter, they could and would, and that was terrifying.  If Tony hadn’t…  If he hadn’t…  “Easy there, Capsicle.  You’re crushing me.”

Steve pulled away, flushing with embarrassment and struggling to get a hold of himself.  He wasn’t a particularly touchy-feely person, and Tony was about as far from one as one could possibly get, but he’d been so relieved and grateful he hadn’t been able to contain it.  And he wanted to thank Tony now, but the words wouldn’t come.  Tony smiled, understanding at any rate.  “The minute I saw you holding her, I knew we were doomed.  You with your unerring sense of responsibility.”  He didn’t say any of that with heat in his voice.  His eyes were soft, and he offered up a knowing (albeit troubled) smile.

“Tony, I…”

“Don’t.  Let’s just get out of here before the One-Eyed Wonder changes his mind.  You go collect little Miss America, and I’ll call Pepper and have her get some things.  God.  We’ve probably created a monster, just so you know.  Pepper likes shopping.”

“What do you mean?”

“Do you have any idea how much junk people buy for babies nowadays?  I can feel my credit card being drained as we speak.”

Steve’s brow furrowed in confusion.  “We don’t need–”

“Need has nothing to do with it.  Haven’t you figured out anything about the 21st century yet?”

Somehow that tempered his excitement.  Not because he didn’t want to do this.  But because he couldn’t just _do_ it.  Seeing Tony’s slightly frazzled expression reminded him again that this decision (as tentative as it might be) didn’t only affect him.  “Just… Don’t let her go too crazy.  I need to check this over with the rest of the team first.  They live there, too.  It’s not fair to just… _dump_ this on them.”  And it wasn’t just that.  It was the prospect of Steve’s life changing.  Of their lives changing.  Who knew if it would be permanent (of course, it _would_ be permanent, one way or another), but this would fundamentally alter everything, not the least of which the dynamic in the Tower.  Steve was their captain.  His number one priority had always been the Avengers, looking after his teammates, training and preparing and guiding them, smoothing over their rough edges and making them work together.  Already Sarah would be at odds with that.  When the call came in for the Avengers to assemble, was he going to be able to take charge and lead them into battle?

Those worries that had bothered him earlier were back in full force, everything that Tony had said about dangers and risks and a baby having no place in their world.  He didn’t want to think about it now.  And Tony clearly wanted to simply brush it aside, but there was hurt in his eyes, like he too was realizing that the idle threat Steve had readily made before to Fury maybe wasn’t so idle.  “Steve, they’re not going to care.  And besides, it’s temporary.”

Steve blew out a breath.  “You sure about that?”

Tony didn’t have anything to say, but it was pretty obvious he wasn’t.


	5. Chapter 5

The cloud looming over Steve’s head persisted, even when he returned to the medical ward to find Rebecca giving Sarah another bottle.  The nurse brightly smiled at him.  “Come see.  She’s awake.”

Steve came closer.  There was hesitation in him again, not so much because he was afraid or uncertain of what to do anymore, but because he was now on a path whose destination was very much an unknown.  Rebecca’s cheeriness slid from her face, worry over his apathy replacing it.  “Captain?”

Steve swallowed through a dry throat.  After leaving Tony, he’d walked in a daze, bereft of any coherent thought.  He was numb in a way he couldn’t remember ever feeling.  No, that wasn’t entirely true.  After losing his mother.  After losing Bucky.  After waking up in the future and losing Peggy.  Losing everything he’d known and everyone he’d loved.  He didn’t understand it.  This time he hadn’t _lost_ anything at all.  _You know that’s not true._   The voice had been whispering in his head maybe this whole time, lacing its dissension through his thoughts and extinguishing his joy and relief.  He did feel like he was mourning, though over what he wasn’t certain.  It was ridiculous because he’d _gained_ something, something new and wonderful, and yet he still felt crestfallen.  Burdened.  It was a chill settling in his bones, a twist in his gut that pained and nauseated him just a little.  The enormity of it all had been this ghost slipping around his heart, haunting him, and now he couldn’t ignore it.  He’d found himself a quiet corner somewhere on the way here, a nook in the helicarrier where the agents and techs didn’t go, and he’d collapsed into it, shaking and hurting.  He was a father.  He’d been _forced_ into it.  Tony was right.  Clint was right.  Fury was right.  He hadn’t had a choice.  And now his life as he’d known it…  That was over, one way or another.  Either he would embrace this change and all of the consequences that came with it, or he wouldn’t and he would live with the guilt and regret the rest of his life.

No matter what, he wasn’t walking away from this as who he had been.  The Steve Rogers of this morning…  That man was gone.

“I’m okay,” he lied, to himself as well as to her.  That heavy cloud fogging his mind and dragging him down with worry and dread dissipated slowly, step by step, until he was standing beside Rebecca.  He couldn’t really remember walking here.  “I’m okay.”  _Keep saying it.  Somehow it’ll be true._

Sarah was busily drinking.  Rebecca was right.  Her eyes were wide open, blue and focused, and when he came into her line of sight, she blinked and looked at him.  And the chill that had invaded his chest eased.  He couldn’t help the smile coming to his face.  “Hey, baby,” he whispered.  He slipped a finger down Sarah’s cheek.

“Here,” Rebecca said, rising out of the chair to offer Sarah to Steve.

“Actually, uh, I could use your help.  I’m taking her.  Home, I mean.”

Rebecca’s face absolutely lit up.  “Oh, that’s great, Captain.  I’m so relieved.  Honestly, I was really worried about what was going to happen to her.”  _So was I._   He still was, but Rebecca seemed so happy with the way this was turning out that he didn’t want to dampen her spirits with his fears.  She smiled at him, pulling the bottle free from Sarah for a minute to hand the swaddled bundle to Steve.  He took her, fumbling somewhat, before he got her nestled in the crook of his left arm.  The baby squawked unhappily at the loss of her dinner, crying in frustration until Steve got the bottle back in her mouth.  “You look upset, if you don’t mind me saying.”

Steve had hoped he wasn’t so transparent, but he’d never been terribly proficient at hiding his emotions.  He managed half a smile, one that was as weak and as brittle as he felt.  He didn’t know this woman beyond this crazy day, but he suddenly found he couldn’t lie.  “I don’t know what I’m doing.  I don’t know anything about this.  I don’t know…”  There were so many things he didn’t know.  He didn’t even know where to start.

It wasn’t obvious if Rebecca was at all unnerved about seeing Captain America battling his emotions right in front of her.  Steve was used to people not noticing _him_ underneath the shield and the mantle of the world’s First Avenger, but the way she was watching him, not off-put or intimidated in the face of his upset, was comforting in its own way.  “Babies don’t come with instruction manuals, you know.  When I worked at Mount Sinai, I saw _lots_ of new parents scared about it all.  Believe me: this is normal.”

“Normal?”  Steve shook his head, looking down at Sarah.  She was still staring at him, drinking happily.  “This isn’t normal.  Those parents at least had a choice.  They had time to prepare.  They _knew_ what they were getting into.”  His voice sounded so bitter and afraid, so not at all like him, that he was immediately ashamed of himself.  And then he was angry at being ashamed, because he had a right to feel this way.  Even if he knew he needed to do this, it was being rather unceremoniously thrust on him.  He’d wanted kids someday, sure.  He’d dreamed of marrying Peggy when the war had ended, of having a family with her.  But this was nothing compared to that.  He wasn’t just a parent.  He was a _single_ parent, the father of a mystery baby whose conception was about as far from _normal_ as one could get.  Moreover, he’d grown up without a father.  The closest example he had of a good one was Bucky’s, and Bucky’s da hadn’t been, well, as _involved_ as fathers were nowadays.  Not that Daniel Barnes hadn’t loved his children, because he had deeply.  He’d even loved Steve, who’d been close enough to Bucky to be practically another son.  However, the day to day details of child-rearing had usually been women’s work back in his day, so this was _really_ uncharted territory.  Steve sighed.  “I don’t know how to do this,” he admitted.  This.  _Everything._   The simple things like changing diapers and making bottles and bathing and dressing and teaching.  The complicated things like instilling good morals, knowing what was right and safe and healthy from what wasn’t, being a guardian and a guide as much as a source of comfort and love and protection.  Captain America might be a symbol of valor, courage, and integrity to the nation, but Steve Rogers was still just a kid from Brooklyn.

 _It’s just temporary._   That was what Tony had said.  _Temporary._

“You’ll figure it out,” Rebecca soothed.  She grabbed a wipe from a sterile box and gently dabbed away the formula that had dribbled out the side of Sarah’s mouth.  “If anyone can, it’s you.  You’re Captain America.”

She wasn’t just putting him on.  She honestly believed that.  But Tony’s words came right back into his head on the tail of hers.  _“It’s not Captain America in here taking care of a baby.”_   Still, she was right.  _He_ was Captain America.  Sure, Steve Rogers was quiet and serious and not nearly as confident as Captain America was sometimes.  But everything that made Captain America so strong and capable came from him.  Of course, that brought into stark realization that Captain America and Steve Rogers weren’t so separable.  It was kind of like how the serum couldn’t be extracted from his DNA.  It was a part of him, and he was a part of it.  And that meant he would always be Captain America, even if he put down his shield and tried to be this child’s father…

Who was he kidding?  He didn’t know the first thing about being a father.

“Stop thinking so much,” Rebecca chided gently.  Steve focused eyes that had gone blank and glazed to find her smiling at him _knowingly_.  How she could do that after only meeting him less than twelve hours before was a little mind-boggling, but he was grateful for it, nonetheless.  “I mean it.  You’ll figure it out.”  Steve nodded, looking down at Sarah again.  She was getting sleepy now.  “Here.  You get a good burp out of her, and I’ll start gathering up some things for you.”

“Oh, you don’t need to.  Tony’s – I mean, Mr. Stark’s girlfriend is taking care of it.”

Rebecca brushed aside his concerns.  “It’s not a problem.  I highly doubt SHIELD is going to need this stuff.”  Steve watched as she fetched a plastic bag out of one of the cabinets and started filling it with the diapers and formula SHIELD had procured for Sarah.  “Oh, and this came for you while you were gone.”

Steve’s brow furrowed in confusion as he sat and patted Sarah’s back on his lap like Rebecca had shown him.  “What did?”

Rebecca lifted a bag covered in pastel nursery animals (predominantly pink) and accented in glitter.  He stared at it dumbly for what felt like a long time before his brain sluggishly kicked in and realized it was a gift for the baby.  “One of the doctors brought it in from outside.”  She brought it over to Steve just as he finally got the burp out of Sarah.  He leaned her back on his arm and offered her the rest of the bottle, which she took to enthusiastically.  Rebecca smiled.  “She certainly eats well.”

Steve tipped his head to the bag since his hands were full.  “What’s in there?”

“You want me to open it?”  He nodded, and Rebecca started digging in the tissue paper.  “Oh, this is cute.”  She pulled a tiny pink and white outfit from the bag, a sleeper (Steve thought it was called that) with ballerina slippers on the feet.  Rebecca held it up for him to see, but Steve didn’t know what to make of it.  It was sweet, but his mind was still stumbling.  “And a blanket.  And more clothes.”  Rebecca kept pulling things out.  “This is good, since you don’t really have anything for her to wear out of here.  It’s too cold for those little onesies.”

“Oh.”

“You’re going to want to wash all of her clothes before she wears them with laundry detergent for sensitive skin.  It’s specially made for babies.  But exigent circumstances and all.”  Rebecca smiled, selecting the first sleeper out of the sizeable pile.  “You want her in this?”

“Uh…  Yeah, I guess so.  Where did all of this come from?”

Rebecca reached in the bag a little deeper, rustling and finally producing a card.  “Here.  I’ll take her and get her dressed for you.”  Steve stared at the card quizzically and checked Sarah again.  She was essentially finished with her bottle, so he pulled it away and handed her to Rebecca.  Sarah whimpered and fussed a little, and Rebecca shushed her gently as she turned and laid her on the table.  Steve ripped open the pink envelope.  Inside there was a pretty card with matching colors and nursery animals on the cover.  He opened it to find Thor’s starkly, mannish scrawl.  It was really out of place amidst the all cutesiness.  _“Steve, I hope I did not overstep my bounds, but I wished to offer a gift to welcome your daughter into our family.  Jane was kind enough to help me – I fear I am useless with things of this sort!  We are both very happy for you.  I will see you soon.  Your brother in arms, Thor.”_   Despite his surprise, Steve couldn’t help but smile, and more warmth spread inside his chest.  He hadn’t expected this to be from Thor, although, in all honesty, who else could it have been from?  _Our family._   Everything was so simple to Thor, so easy and cut and dry.  _Our family._

Sarah cried.  “I know you don’t like the cold,” Rebecca said to her quietly.  “I’ll be quick.”  Steve grabbed the bag from the floor, blinking back tears.  _What’s the matter with you?_ he chided himself, scrubbing his hand down his face to hopefully wipe them away before Rebecca could see how terrified he was.  How lost and upset he was.  _Buck up, Rogers.  Buck up._   Sarah was really crying now.  Steve gathered up the clothes Thor and Jane had purchased and pushed them into the bag with shaking hands.  Then he stood, feeling so _useless_ , his eyes wet again as Rebecca changed Sarah’s diaper.  Rebecca wiped the baby clean, murmuring comfortingly to her, and put a new diaper on.  “It’ll be alright, sweetheart,” she cooed.  “Just a minute more.  No sense in getting so worked up.”

Steve couldn’t breathe with the knot in his throat.  It was a sob, and it was climbing and climbing until he coughed on it.  He wiped angrily at his eyes again.  The world was spinning.  He felt every muscle in his body shaking, his nerves tingling, his bones vibrating and his heart shuddering.  His very molecules were twisting with Sarah’s cries like he was in tune with her.  Like she was a part of him.  _My daughter._

_Our family._

“I can do this,” he softly said to Rebecca.

She looked at him worriedly.  “You sure?”

He could breathe again, so he took a deep breath and reached for the new sleeper.  “Yeah.”

* * *

He got Sarah dressed into the sleeper.  It was soft and warm and fit her perfectly (either Thor knew more about this than he let on or he was incredibly lucky at choosing sizes.  Or girlfriends.).  He pulled a small, pink cap over Sarah’s tiny head, swaddled her, and gathered her up in his arms.  She was sucking contentedly on her pacifier, but she hadn’t fallen asleep.  She was still watching Steve as if she was seeing more and more of him every time.  Rebecca draped her new blanket over her, tucking it in around her.  “There we are,” she said, smiling kindly at Steve and the baby.  “All warm and ready to go.”

“Thanks,” Steve said genuinely.  “And thanks for not… you know, not noticing that I was losing it.”

Rebecca was still smiling.  Steve hadn’t really seen her do much else, so sweet and sunny and optimistic.  “It’s not a big deal, Captain.  I think you’re entitled to freak out just a little.”  Steve smiled, too, sheepishly.  “If you ask me, you don’t have anything to worry about.  She likes her daddy just fine.”  He nodded, sighing slowly.  “Let me get the rest of this stuff together and get you signed out of here.  It’ll just be a minute.”

“Okay.”

Rebecca gathered up the gift bag and the sack of supplies she had already collected for him.  She stepped outside of the small room.  Steve released a long breath, trying to calm his still rattled nerves and center himself.  He felt better again, but it would be a lie to say he was at all composed.  The consequences were still _there_ , distant again but undeniable.  And he knew he was doing the right thing, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t scared out of his mind.  _Don’t think about it._   He focused on that, on not thinking about it, the fallacy of making himself believe that this was okay and all these other worries and fears weren’t there and couldn’t bother him.

Sarah made a little noise.  Steve looked down at her, having not realized that he’d started swaying in a subconscious effort to get her to sleep.  “I lied,” he admitted.  In the absolute silence, his voice was thunderous.  “I’m not sure I can do this.”  She stared at him, struggling with the pacifier in her mouth and her face scrunching like she was going to cry again.  “Don’t.  Come on, baby girl, don’t cry.”  He hushed her softly, resettling the pacifier and rubbing her cheek like Rebecca had shown him to get her to start sucking.  She fought, squeaking and shaking her head.  Steve patted her and held her tighter, praying she’d start sucking.  “You know, everybody thinks I have all the answers all the time.  I don’t.  I don’t know.  I’m making this up as I go.  No plan.  Not this time.  It’s pretty upsetting.  I kinda want to cry, too.  But we’re not going to, right?”  He sighed, closing his eyes against the burn of weariness and ( _damn it, not again_ ) tears as Sarah gave up on the pacifier and started wailing in earnest.  He barked out a gruff laugh.  “Alright.  You and me both, baby girl.”

Steve started walking, hushing and swaying and patting and doing everything he could to get her to stop.  That feeling of complete inadequacy rushed over him anew, but he didn’t give into it.  It was tempting, but he couldn’t.  He needed that calm strength he knew he had, that serene patience that others admired and envied.  So he wiped his eyes again and shushed her, lifting her higher so she was closer to his neck.  He worked through the next few minutes with steady hands and a steadier heart.  “It’s alright,” he whispered.  “Don’t cry.  We’re gonna get through this.  We’ll figure it out together.  I promise.”  Sarah got her pacifier more securely in her mouth and started to suck on it.  Steve closed his eyes, swaying still, as she calmed down.  “There you go, baby girl.  We got this, don’t we.”

Sarah’s cries died to little whimpers against the warmth of his neck.  Steve released a long breath, repeating his words over and over again, like a gentle mantra.  “We got this,” he whispered against her head.  He kissed her tenderly.  “We got this.”  He moved a little longer, waiting until she was completely quiet against him.  Once she was, he lowered her carefully enough to not jostle her too much to see if she was sleeping.  She was well on her way there.  Steve blew out a breath, smiling in relief as he tucked her against him again.  “We got this.”

There was a knock at the door.  Steve turned, the sound pulling him out of a world that had condensed to himself and Sarah.  “Come in,” he called.

The door opened slowly.  A young woman stood there that Steve didn’t recognize.  He regarded her warily.  “Captain Rogers?”  She ventured in deeper.  She was pretty, with long brown hair, brown inquisitive eyes, and a comely face, and she was dressed in civilian attire.  Still, she had a SHIELD ID badge.  There was a man beside her who had black hair and a humorless expression on his stern face.  The girl blushed.  “I, um…  Well.  I work with SHIELD.  With the, uh, team that found the baby.  You know, yesterday?”  She got flustered, grinning weakly in embarrassment.  “Of course you do.  Sorry.  I’m normally not this much of a complete idiot.  I’m just having like a fan girl dork explosion or something.  Can’t believe I’m talking to Captain America.”

Steve really wasn’t in the mood for visitors, let alone visitors like this.  He just wanted to go at this point.  But he forced some semblance of politeness into his tone.  Some, but it wasn’t much.  “Is there something I can do for you, Miss…”

“Skye,” the girl replied.  “And this is Agent Grant Ward.”

The man behind Skye nodded.  “Sir, it’s an honor to meet you.”

Steve nodded back, not entirely sure about either of these two.  Skye glanced at Ward like she was checking to see if it was okay to keep going.  She managed another weak grin, shuffling nervously.  “We were just coming down to see if the baby was okay when we heard from the nurses outside that she was leaving.  You know, with you.  And, um…  Well…”  She stepped further inside.  “It’s probably – no, it’s _definitely_ not even close to my place, but…”  She drew a deep breath and mustered up the courage to say whatever it was she wanted to say.  “I just wanted to tell you that I think it’s great.  What you’re doing.”  Steve felt anger simmer inside him.  How many people knew about what had happened at this point?  Was his personal life fodder for the SHIELD rumor mill?  But his ire cooled instantly at Skye’s expression.  The girlishness dropped from her pretty face, leaving a certain solemnness, a sorrow in her eyes that added age and gravity to her.  “Growing up without parents is tough.  Not knowing who you are or why they didn’t want you…”  Her eyes glazed with pain.  “It defines you in ways I don’t think other people can understand.  So the fact that you’re doing this for her is…  It’s comforting.  I’m glad she has you.”

That was a bold thing for her to say.  Whoever she was, to come down here and push her way unannounced and uninvited into his private affairs took guts, the fact that he was Captain America notwithstanding.  However, Steve could tell right away that she meant it.  There was sincerity in her gaze, sincerity and genuine appreciation.  And she smiled again.  “Well, I’m totally embarrassed.  I shouldn’t have–”

“No, it’s alright,” Steve said.  “Thank you.”

Skye appeared so sincere and relieved.  “Oh.  Okay, then.  Just wanted to make sure she was going to be okay.”

Steve nodded.  “She’s fine,” he said.

“Thanks, Captain Rogers.”  She flashed a toothy smile at him.   “Well, bye.”

“Bye.”

Skye turned, grabbing Agent Ward by the arm and pulling him out of the room.  She probably didn’t realize he had enhanced hearing, because she was trying to quietly but excitedly whisper about how cool it was to meet Captain America and how some people named Simmons and Fitz weren’t going to believe it.  He smiled in spite of himself.

Rebecca was back a moment later.  She had a tablet that she handed to him.  She held Sarah for him, who was now sound asleep again, while he read it over.  It was a basic release of the “unnamed infant female” to him.  He didn’t dwell on it too much, signing it with the stylus and pressing his thumb into the scanner.  Then Rebecca handed him a duffle that contained the supplies and Thor’s gift, which he slung over his shoulder, and carefully placed Sarah back in his arms.  “I put my phone number in the bag,” she said, looking down on the slumbering baby with a touch of sadness in her eyes.  Steve realized it was because he was leaving and taking Sarah with him, and Rebecca was going to miss her.  The baby seemed to have this effect on people.  Just in the space of a day, she’d gotten into quite a few hearts.  “It’s my private number.  Goes straight to my cell, my non-SHIELD cell.  Call me for anything.  Anything at all.  If you have questions or just want to vent…  Doesn’t matter.  Day or night.”  Rebecca looked up at him.  “And let me know how she’s doing.  Please?”

Steve smiled.  “Sure.  Of course I will.”

Rebecca rested her hand on the baby’s head.  “Not every day I get to be a part of something like this.”  Sarah let out a little sigh, giving up on sucking on her pacifier and sinking deeper into sleep.  Rebecca tucked her new blanket around her tighter.  “Make sure you keep her covered.  It’s going to be chilly out on the flight deck.”

“Rebecca, I don’t know how to even begin to thank you,” Steve said softly.  “I’m feeling like I’m in way over my head, to be honest, but you’ve given me hope that maybe I’m not.”

She laughed.  “Oh, you are, Captain.  Like I said, babies don’t come with instruction manuals.  But you can handle it.  And you’re welcome.”  She smiled sweetly, encouragingly, at him.  “It’s been my pleasure.”  She brushed the backs of her fingers carefully down Sarah’s little cheek.  “Bye, sweetheart.  Be good for your daddy.”

That was the second time Rebecca had called him that.  It felt… good in a way.  Terrifying, but good.  And he felt better now than he had earlier.  No more certain of himself, but at least certain of what he was doing.  With one last look at the nurse and around the small room in which his life had so completely changed, he was walking out and through the medical bay and toward the elevator.  People stared, of course.  Even without the uniform and the shield, his face was well known, and he was strolling around the SHIELD helicarrier with a newborn baby tucked in his arms.  He thought he could hear them whispering, the gossip machine gearing up with high efficiency at something so juicy as Captain America carrying a mystery baby.  He ignored it all.  A few minutes later he met Tony at the entrance to the flight deck.

“Ready?” he asked, giving Steve a once over.

“As I’ll ever be,” Steve quietly responded.

Tony didn’t look certain, but thankfully he didn’t question it.  They stepped outside.  Rebecca was right; the air was nippy, with the sun nearly set and the autumn breeze kicking spray up off the ocean around them.  Steve adjusted the blanket with his free hand, covering Sarah’s face.  A Stark Industries chopper was across the deck, already powered up and ready to fly.  Alongside it, Fury was waiting.  “I don’t think I need to remind you, Captain, but you need to keep this under wraps,” he said when the two men reached him.  “The Avengers have enough crazy press already.  We don’t need to add to it.”

“I know that,” Steve said.  He managed to keep the heat from his voice.

Fury took a step closer, like he was trying to cut Tony out of the conversation.  “And it goes without saying–” _But you’re going to say it anyway._  “–but if the call comes in for the Avengers to assemble, that has to be your priority.  Understood?”

It wasn’t a threat, really, but it felt like one when he was this raw and uncertain of himself.  Thankfully, Tony pushed his way in, cutting between the SHIELD Director and Steve and taking his friend’s arm and pulling him along.  “He’s got it.”

Steve was ridiculously relieved when they stepped inside the chopper.  Tony retracted the steps and closed the door.  “What a jerk.  I’ve had about enough of SHIELD for today.  Forever, even,” he muttered.  “You okay?”

“Let’s get out of here,” Steve answered tightly, dropping the bags near the expensive leather seats and plopping down in one of them.

Tony watched him a moment more, again not overly convinced.  But, again, he wisely didn’t question.  “Sure thing, boss.  Consider this popsicle stand blown.”  He walked up to the cockpit, where apparently he was flying the helicopter himself and without a copilot.  That was fine with Steve.  He didn’t want anyone else involved at that point, at least not anyone else that he didn’t know.

A few minutes later, the helicopter was rising into the evening sky.  Steve watched the pearly white clouds sweep by the windows.  It was smooth sailing, at least.  He pulled the blanket down from Sarah’s face, relieved to find her content and slumbering away.  “Well, baby girl.”  He closed his eyes and sank down into his seat.  “We’re going home.”  Much like everything else, he wasn’t sure how he felt about that.

* * *

Tony was right about Pepper.  “Overboard” didn’t even begin to cover what she’d bought.

“Holy…” Tony whispered as he and Steve stepped inside Steve’s suite.  Inside his bedroom, some workers were busy assembling furniture.  A wooden crib, white-washed and expensive looking, was already against the far wall.  They were putting together some sort of long table and an armoire and a fancy glider.  There were other things, too.  A swing of some kind.  A little infant tub and a load of towels.  A couple of strollers.  Little colorful seats fitted with dangling things.  A huge array of stuffed animals and toys.  Steve could hardly believe it.  He’d grown up during the Great Depression, where they’d been impoverished and his mother had had to make do with whatever she could find, where new clothes were a rare treat, where toys had been a luxury.  This was both amazing and a little disturbing.

His bed was completely covered in clothes.  There was so much pink and purple and white that he couldn’t even see the navy blue of his bedspread underneath it.  Pepper was sorting through it, but when she noticed Tony and Steve, she stopped working and smiled brighter than the sun.  “What do you think?” she asked, looking around at her handiwork.

Tony seemed sick.  “My tower…” he moaned.

“Um,” Steve stammered.  “It’s, uh… great?”  Not one of his most eloquent moments.

Pepper didn’t notice.  “The builders and painters are coming first thing tomorrow morning.”  Builders?  Painters?  _Oh, no._   “If you don’t mind losing part of your den and part of your bedroom, they’ll attach baby’s room right to yours.  For now I put a bassinet and some things in the guest room.  You can sleep there for a couple of days while we get this in order.  That alright?”

Wait, there was _more_ stuff in another room?  “Pepper, this is too much.  You didn’t have to–”

“I told you _not_ to go crazy,” Tony said.  “As in, _not_ do this.”

But Pepper completely ignored him.  She was practically beaming as she came closer to Steve.  “Oh, my God,” she whispered, looking down at Sarah who was still sleeping in Steve’s arms.  Pepper’s face lit up.  She brushed an errant lock of auburn hair that had fallen loose of her pony tail behind her ear as she stared at the baby.  “She’s adorable. Absolutely perfect.  Can I hold her?”

Steve glanced at Tony, who seemed positively horrified.  The inventor was deluding himself if he thought that Pepper was okay with not having kids.  He seemed to be realizing that, his mouth hanging open and his face caught in a wince.  Steve was too shocked by all of it to really do anything but comply.  “Yeah.  Yeah, of course.”

He carefully handed Sarah over to Pepper’s waiting arms.  The baby gurgled quietly in her sleep, but she was safe and comfortable in Pepper’s embrace a moment later.  “Oh, Steve.  She looks just like you.”  Steve smiled faintly.  He pulled Sarah’s hat off, slipping his fingers through the soft brown hair again.  Pepper watched him worriedly for a minute.  “You okay?”

He was so tired of being asked that.  No, he wasn’t okay.  Yes, he was.  He didn’t know.  He was of two minds about everything, this included.  Still, he was too numb and worn down right then to summon any semblance of anger.  And not at Pepper.  Pepper had been nothing but sweet to all of the Avengers, but him in particular, since they had come to live at Stark Tower.  She was the only one regularly involved with the team who was a civilian; Jane Foster and her intern were around now and then, but not enough that Steve could say he really knew them.  Pepper was kind, beautiful, gentle but extremely capable and powerfully smart.  She had to be to keep up with a man like Tony Stark.  And if she’d ever been bothered that her home had been turned into the command center and sometimes residence for Earth’s mightiest (and most dysfunctional) heroes, she’d hidden it behind sweet smiles and boundless patience.

He got the feeling that Pepper pitied him.  Not in a condescending way by any stretch of the word, but she felt bad for him.  He’d woken up in the future and been thrust into leading this team within a matter of weeks, and while he’d done pretty well adjusting to that (if he did say so himself), he had certainly grieved under the guise of Captain America.  He’d felt awkward around her, around everyone to be honest, in the months after the Avengers had formed.  And he’d kept to himself, moving between the Tower and his apartment in Brooklyn, throwing himself into working for SHIELD and leading the team and trying to understand this new world but really feeling groundless and like a ghost.  But all it had taken was running into Pepper coming back from LA on the red-eye one sleepless night to put a stop to his listlessness.  She’d offered him a cup of hot chocolate and an ear, and she’d coaxed him into talking without pressuring, without the cold, professional detachment all of the therapists SHIELD had assigned to him had had.  So when she asked if he was okay, she was just concerned, and with good reason.

“I’m okay,” he finally managed with a bit of a reassuring smile.  “Where is everyone?”

“The team is assembled in the main common room on the 38th floor, Captain Rogers,” JARVIS said.  “And may I be so bold as to mention that I have researched numerous websites and available digital books to thoroughly familiarize myself with the care of newborn children.  If you have any questions, feel free to ask me.  I have also taken the liberty of sending a few of the more comprehensive and salient publications on parenting to your phone, if you would like to read them yourself.”

Someone else would have probably considered that pretty presumptuous, but Steve knew it was just JARVIS trying to help.  Despite Tony’s best efforts to turn JARVIS into a sneaky jerk, the AI was pretty efficient at taking care of the team.  “Thanks, JARVIS.”

“You are most welcome, sir.”

“J, order everyone something for dinner,” Tony ordered.

“We already ate,” Steve reminded, although so much had happened since then that he could hardly remember it.

“Then a snack.  Pizza or something.”

“Right away, sir.”

Steve swept his hand over Sarah’s head again.  “You better let me take her.  I need to go talk to everyone.”

Pepper shook her head, already moving to the newly built glider.  “It’s alright.  I can watch her for a bit while you do what you need to.”  She sat, snuggling Sarah deeper into the blanket and crossing her legs before starting to rock.

Steve and Tony both stared at her, the former doubtfully and the latter like she was crazy.  “You… you know what you’re doing?” Tony asked incredulously.

“Yes, Mr. Stark,” Pepper returned blithely.  “I have held a baby before.”

“But what if she gets hungry or starts crying or poops all–”

“I’ve dealt with those things before, too,” Pepper said firmly.  Steve couldn’t help but be surprised.  Tony was downright flabbergasted.  Pepper rolled her eyes slightly at them.  “Nieces and nephews.”  She looked at Steve and not so subtly shooed him away.  “Go on.  She’ll be fine.  Won’t you, darling?”

And that was that.  It had been decided, and the two of them might as well have not existed at all.  Pepper was rocking the baby amidst the chaos going on in Steve’s suite, and she was as happy as a lark.  Steve stared dumbly at the scene a moment more before tilting his head in acceptance and turning to head back out.  “Come on, Tony.”

“Took me years to make her fall in love with me,” Tony grumbled on the way to the elevator.  “That little squirt did it in all of a second.”

Steve grimaced, thinking about the load of stuff rapidly filling his suite to the brim.  And he thought about Pepper, enamored with the baby.  “Sorry.”  He wasn’t certain what he was apologizing for, but he was pretty sure he needed to apologize for something.

“You owe me, Rogers,” Tony said as they stepped inside the lift and headed up.  “Forever.”

* * *

The Avengers were gathered around the living area of the common floor.  Natasha and Clint sat together on one of the leather couches, Clint’s feet on the coffee table and his hand wrapped around a beer.  Natasha was dressed in a warm-up suit, her legs folded under her.  On the other couch, Bruce was looking over something on his tablet, the light from the screen reflecting in his glasses, and Thor was beside him, nursing a beer of his own.  They all looked up when Steve and Tony walked in.

“No, don’t get up,” Tony said.  “Seriously.  Even though the lord of the manor has returned, please be seated.”

Clint rolled his eyes.  “Does it look like we were getting up?”

“You were thinking about it.  Any more beer?”  Tony walked to the fridge, opened it, and pulled two bottles out.  He came back and handed one to Steve, who gave a small shake of his head.  Tony looked worried, like he wanted to say something, but again he didn’t.  Respecting Steve’s choices, he guessed.  Tony clapped Steve on the shoulder before settling on the arm of the couch next to Bruce.  There was a silent moment.  Then Tony tipped his bottle toward him.  “Go ahead.  You got the floor, Cap.”

They were all watching him.  Waiting for him.  Steve stepped into the center of the room, glancing around at his team.  His friends.  All he had in this crazy future.  He didn’t know if he could ask anything of them, at least not something like this.  “So…  Well, you all know what happened.”  He stammered a little.  That was so unlike him, and he didn’t quite recognize his voice.

“We know,” Natasha said.

“And we know you brought her here,” Clint added.  His easy expression slid quickly into something of a frown.  He wasn’t pushing, but he was questioning.  “You sure that’s a good idea?”

Steve stood as straight as he could.  “I couldn’t leave her there,” he said.  “SHIELD would have locked her up in a lab.”

“You don’t know that, Steve,” Natasha argued quietly.  The eyes of the team shifted to her, Steve’s more sharply than the others.  Of course she didn’t flinch with the unspoken accusation.  She hardly even blinked.  “I’m not trying to defend SHIELD.  They dropped the ball bad on this.  But that doesn’t mean they would have mistreated her.”

“You’re _not_ going to defend SHIELD?” Bruce asked tightly.  He normally wasn’t the sort to instigate or continue an argument, but this was a sore spot with him.  Science mixing with SHIELD always was.  “They stole Steve’s DNA.  Illegally.  It was used to create a human being!  They’re just as guilty as whoever actually made Sarah, and–”

Steve raised his hand, hearing Bruce’s tone escalate.  “Bruce, it’s alright.  There’s no reason to argue about it.  It’s done, and…  Look, I don’t know what to think of SHIELD’s involvement right now.  I trust them when I have to, when our team is out there and we need their intel and backup.  But do I trust them to do the right thing here?”

“What’s the right thing?” Clint asked.

Thor’s voice was a low rumble.  “Whatever Steve feels is right.”  He set his bottle of beer to the table.  “He is the child’s father.”

“And the victim in this,” Bruce added.

“No, I’m not,” Steve returned firmly.  “I’m not a victim.  And I’d appreciate it if everyone would stop talking about it like that.”  That came out more harshly than he intended, more defensively and dismissively, and if that wasn’t a sure indication that he _was_ hurt, he didn’t know what was.  He deflated on a long breath, wilting under their analytical gazes.  He wasn’t blind to his own faults, not the least of which being his propensity to lay down on the wire all the time.  Sometimes it was necessary and the right thing to do, but not all the time.

“Steve, you gotta admit–” Clint started.

Someday, yes.  “Guys, I don’t want to argue about this.  I don’t think I can do it right now.”

Clint looked ashamed, clearing his throat a little and dropping his boots from the coffee table.  “Sorry, Cap.  We’re not trying to play devil’s advocate here.  And I’m not trying to get under your skin.”  He was as cool as a cucumber.  He always was, even though Steve knew this had to be riling him.

Steve nodded, his taut expression slackening.  “I know you’re not.”

“But you don’t have to do this,” Clint reminded.  Steve glanced at Tony, but the inventor said nothing, even though Steve knew he agreed with what Clint was saying.  “You don’t have to.  Not that I’m saying you’re throwing your life away or anything, but…  You’re giving up an awful lot.”

“Wait, are you really planning on taking the baby?  For good?” Bruce asked.  He seemed shocked, not necessarily upset with the idea, but upset that Steve was considering it so seriously.

Steve opened his mouth to answer, but nothing came out because he didn’t _have_ an answer again.  He was ashamed to admit it, and the tense moment of silence dragged on and on before Bruce sighed.  “Steve, that’s…”  He trailed off.  “I don’t know what to say.”  He shook his head.  “Except Clint’s right.  If you’re feeling obligated, you shouldn’t.  You’re taking on a heck of a responsibility.”

Steve tried to hold onto his temper.  “I know.”

“And you don’t have to.”

“I _know_.”

Natasha couldn’t accept this.  She couldn’t understand.  Maybe none of them could.  “Then why are you doing it?”

“Because it’s the right thing to do.”  And that was the truth, when it came down to it.  The right thing.  He always did the right thing.  He sighed.  “I know you all mean well, and I appreciate it, but I had to do this.  I had to bring her home.  I couldn’t just turn my back.”

“Nor should you have to,” Thor said.  He stood, looking to his teammates.  Bless Thor for his simplicity, for cutting through the complexities of things and reducing them down to their smallest, easiest pieces.  Unfortunately, Steve didn’t think things were so small or so easy or so simple.  “We will stand with you, no matter the choices you make.”

“I know you will.  But the thing is that you guys don’t need to.  I know this is a huge imposition to ask of all of you.  I know that.  Believe me, I do.  This is…  Well, it’s a big deal, no matter what happens long-term.  So if you guys don’t want Sarah and me here, we’ll go.”  The words were out before Steve even thought to speak.  The entire team stared at him in alarm, eyes hard and questioning.  Steve forced himself to not back down.  He’d been thinking this since leaving Fury’s office.  He’d been thinking that he needed to offer this, to offer to leave the Tower, that it was only right.  “Like I said, I know what I’m asking of you, and it’s not right of me to do it.  I can’t force this upon you.  This is your home, too.  And this is my… problem.  I’ll deal with it.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Clint said tersely.  “Look, I don’t like kids.  I have no idea what to even do with one.  But we’re sure as day not just gonna throw you out onto the street because this happened.”

Tony raised a hand.  “Technically my tower, so I’d be the one doing the throwing.”  At Natasha’s glare, he meekly averted his eyes and grinned sheepishly.  “Not that I’d do that.”

Steve sighed.  “It’s not just having her here.  It’s…  I don’t know how this is going to change things for all of us.  I don’t know if I can lead the team if I have her to think about.  I don’t know…  I don’t know anything aside from the fact that this isn’t a commitment I can take lightly.”  Tony shot him an annoyed look.  “No matter how long it lasts.”  He blew out a wearied, worried breath.  “It’s a mess, no doubt about it.”

“Steve,” Natasha said softly.  She unfurled her legs and gracefully rose from the couch, as lithe as a cat.  “What do _you_ want?”

The question was logical, even if no one had asked it until now.  And its answer was simple.  Despite all the time he’d spent mulling over what was right and what was best and how this had come to be, it really hadn’t changed.  “I want to keep her with me.”

“Then she stays,” Natasha declared evenly.

Tony glanced around to his teammates, gauging their reactions.  “What happens to one of us happens to all of us, right?”

“She’s your daughter, Cap,” Clint said.  “It’s not just your problem.”

“We’re with you.  We’re a team,” Bruce added.

“Nay, we are far more than a team.”  Thor smiled fondly, looking around their group before settling his gaze on Steve.  “We are a family.”

_Our family._

It was impossible to read into all of that, to tell if they really wanted to do this or if they were just doing it for Steve’s sake.  Steve knew that they would all lay down their lives for him in a heartbeat during battle.  But this was more, so much more.  In battle things were difficult and dangerous, but they were also _familiar_.  Well-defined.  They fought as a team, with well-defined roles and well-defined objectives, and mistakes had well-defined consequences.  In battle they followed his lead because they knew that _he_ knew what he was doing, because they trusted him to plot a course and make a plan that would lead to victory.  Because he knew what was best.  This…  This was a vast unknown, and he was dragging them reluctantly (maybe – he didn’t know anymore) with him into it.  And the worst part was he couldn’t be sure that following him because _he_ wanted it was a good enough reason.

Still, that was all he was going to get for now.

* * *

Dinner (or second dinner, as it was) came.  They ate and laughed and talked about other things.  Movies and sports and pop culture, like it was any other night.  Any other time.  Like this was normal, and it _was_ normal, aside from the one-ton elephant in the room (or the ten-pound baby a couple of floors down) that everyone was ignoring.  Everything unspoken was hanging over them, _looming_ , this worry that things were changing and never going back.  That they were losing their captain.  It was a shadow for certain, not frightening like the threats they routinely faced saving the world but disturbing all the same, and even if Steve laughed along with them and acted like he always had, he knew as well as they did that he was different.

He excused himself after only an hour or so and went back to his room.  He found Pepper in the middle of giving Sarah a bath.  He immediately told her she didn’t need to, and she promptly brushed aside his concerns, and together they washed the squirming infant.  Steve toweled her dry while Pepper found a sleeper in the humongous pile arranged in the guest room.  They got her dressed and ready for bed.  “You want me to stay with you?” Pepper asked.  “I can sleep out on the couch.”

“What?  No.”

“It’s not a problem.  Tony won’t mind.  He probably won’t come to bed, anyway.  He always works when he gets worried.”

That didn’t make him feel one bit better, _shockingly_ enough.  “Pepper, no.  First, Tony will kill me for making you sleep on a couch in your own home.  And second, I can handle this.  I don’t need as much sleep as everyone else does.  You know that.”

She fixed him with a knowing but slightly irate stare.  “Steve, you’re already exhausted.  You do know what babies do at night, don’t you?  Sleeping isn’t always it.”

Steve blew out a breath as he made Sarah’s bottle.  Pepper had purchased the premixed formula, which was convenient.  It was probably more expensive, but right then he didn’t care.  “I know.  And it’s fine.  I’ll be fine.  She’ll be fine.”  Pepper didn’t look convinced.  Steve sagged a little in frustration, taking the bottle from the warmer (jeez, the contraptions they had these days) and heading over to Sarah where she was fussing in Pepper’s arms.  “Really.  You’ve already done so much, and it’s fine.  I’ll have JARVIS contact you if I need you, alright?”

She still didn’t seem entirely placated by his assurances.  “You’re sure?  It’s really not a problem.”

“I’m sure.”  He wasn’t.

“You’ll call if you need anything?”

“I will.”  He wouldn’t.  He didn’t need everyone bending over backward for him.  It made him even more uncomfortable.  He could handle this.  _Really._

Pepper finally acquiesced.  “Alright.”  She handed Sarah to Steve after dropping a little kiss to the baby’s slightly damp hair.  She lingered a moment more as Steve settled down into the (second, for goodness’ sakes) glider she’d purchased, watching with a wistful and pleased expression on her face as Steve gave the baby her bottle.  She dropped her hand to Steve’s shoulder.  “Alright.  Good night then.”  She kissed his cheek.  “I’ll see you in the morning.”

“G’night.”

And, again, that was that.  He was alone.  He rocked without thinking, setting a gentle, lulling rhythm, breathing in a pattern equally gentle and lulling.  The baby drank, her tiny fingers curled around his thumb.  He closed his eyes, wondering at this incredible, _unbelievable_ day, amazed and terrified and happy all at once.  Yes, when he really thought about, he was _happy_ about this.  Not jumping for joy happy, but content.  At some semblance of peace.  He was sure that all of those doubts would resurface.  They hadn’t gone away, cackling in the corner of his mind.  This was going to be a hard road to take, no matter how long it lasted and how far it took him.  But, as silly as it seemed, if he could survive his first night as a father, maybe, just _maybe_ , this would all work out okay. 

“We got this, baby girl,” he promised.  “I know we do.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **AUTHOR'S NOTE** : I apologize if this is a tad bit like tooth-rotting fluff :-D. Most of Steve's trials and tribulations I am basing off of my own experiences as a first-time parent. Enjoy!

Steve was half asleep when he stumbled into the communal kitchen the next morning, dressed in only pajama pants and an A-shirt.  He was yawning, rubbing his eyes vigorously, when he heard Tony’s voice.  “Morning, Cap.”  Blearily he blinked, struggling to make himself focus.  Yet again, Stark was behind the counter in the kitchen.  And it looked like he serving breakfast.  _Déjà vu?_   Tony smiled a toothy smile.  “Wake up on the wrong side of the baby?”

Bruce sat across from Stark.  Steve could see half of his disapproving look.  Tony rolled his eyes.  “Well, I could have said ‘wake up on the wrong side of the mission’ and done this whole _Groundhog Day_ thing.  You look half-passed-out enough to actually fall for it.  You know, reliving the same day over and over again.”

“Seen it,” Steve grumbled, staggering to a stool next to Bruce.  “Not funny.”

“You’re grumpy,” Tony said, sipping his coffee.  “Here.  Pancakes.  I’m not buttering them up.  Or you up.”  He pushed a plate of steaming food in front of Steve.  “And you can pour your own syrup.”

Steve was exhausted enough to actually bristle.  “And you’re callin’ _me_ grumpy?”

“How much sleep did you get?” Bruce asked, eyeing Steve casually but still with no small amount of concern.

Honestly, Steve tried to remember.  He didn’t need as much sleep as normal people did thanks to the serum.  Fatigue tended not to bother him too much, unless he was hurt or had really pushed himself too far.  Still, he was tired in a way he couldn’t remember ever feeling.  That was odd, because he’d gone for longer without substantive rest in the past.  Emotional exhaustion probably had something to do with it.  “Uh…  None?  I think?”  He rubbed a knuckle in his eyes and tried to get past the fog in his head.

Bruce was unhappy with that.  “She never slept?”

Steve wracked his brain.  “I guess she slept an hour around midnight.  Maybe another hour at three?”  He shook his head, staring fuzzily at his breakfast.  “Not sure.”

Tony set a cup of coffee in front of him.  “A night owl,” he said appreciatively.  “A child after my own heart.  Another insomniac.”

Steve gulped down some of his coffee.  It was too hot, scalding its way down his throat, but the pain was worth it.  Caffeine didn’t do much for him (as in nothing), but he’d found after being Captain America for a good five years now that it had something of a placebo effect.  “Really?  Then maybe you can have a go at it tonight.”

“How about no?” Tony responded, tipping his own mug at Steve.

“She’s got her days and nights mixed up,” Bruce supplied, turning to his own plate.

Tony frowned.  “People always say that about babies.  What does it even mean?  They have no concept of day or night, so how can they have them ‘mixed up’?”  He used air quotations again to emphasize the stupidity of it.  “It don’t make no kind of sense.”

Steve grunted.  “Nothing does right now,” he muttered, staring morosely at his breakfast.  He couldn’t decide if he wanted to devour it or just shove it away.  Sure, he’d survived his first night.  But he didn’t feel any more certain about things like he’d hoped he would.  Maybe it was an accomplishment, but it pretty much paled in comparison to the long road in front of him.  It wasn’t like he was waking up this morning, mission complete.  The long hours had been a blur of bottles and diapers and fussing (both hers and his, though he wasn’t going to admit that).  When she’d cried, he’d rocked her, swayed her and patted her bottom as he’d looked out over the silent, glimmering city beneath them.  He’d sung to her, pulling from memories the old Irish hymns his mother had used to sing to him.  And when she’d slept, he hadn’t been brave enough to put her down.  He was afraid to, and it was without reason.  He was afraid he’d fall asleep and sleep through her crying.  Afraid she’d wake up and be afraid herself.  And babies died suddenly sometimes; it had happened to one of his mother’s friends, and the young woman had been devastated.  He knew that was rubbish and nonsense, but he was quickly discovering that there was nothing rational about being a parent.

“Where’s Sarah now?” Bruce asked.

Steve yawned again, rubbing his eyes.  “Pepper’s got her.”

Tony looked confused.  “When did that happen?”

“I don’t know.  What time is it now?”

“9:30.”

“Then around 6:30?  I guess?”  Steve decided on eating, pulling the plate closer and shoveling scrambled eggs in his mouth.  He vaguely remembered Pepper knocking on his door and slipping inside the guest room and sweeping Sarah from his arms.  She’d said something about handling things for a while so he could sleep.  Somehow he’d ended up on the bed, passed out until some banging and the whir of power tools had awaken him.  The builders were there, performing surgery on his suite with Pepper overseeing their efforts and giving Sarah a bottle at the same time.  She was a professional at multi-tasking.  She’d sent him to find some breakfast, and he’d been too shocked at what was happening to do anything more than dumbly nod and follow her orders.

“Here,” Tony said.  He set the morning’s copy of the paper down in front of Steve.  “This should make you feel better.”

Steve blinked and made himself focus.  “Oh, this is great,” he said, unfolding the _Post._   It was the front page of the sports section.  “The Yankees lost?”  He’d completely forgotten the MLB playoffs were going on, what with being out of the country on behalf of SHIELD for the last few days and fighting for world security.  He quickly read over the story with gusto.  “And they completely choked.  Doesn’t get better than that.”  He leafed through the paper, hoping to find more about their humiliation, but he stopped when his eyes hit the gossip page.  Most of the section was missing, like someone had taken it out, but there was a small part on the bottom of one page that was taking about…  “What in the world?”

“Oh, geez, gimme that,” Tony said, snatching the paper away.

But it was too late.  “They think that Pepper’s…”

Bruce grimaced.  “Yeah.”

Tony huffed.  Well, that explained his less than chipper mood.  “What else is freaking new?  This one’s not even my scandal and somehow my name’s still the one getting dragged through the mud.”

Bruce offered his friend a calming look.  “The media is terrible.  It’s not a big deal.”

Tony wasn’t much appeased.  Steve shook his head, feeling his heart sink into this stomach.  “How bad is it?”

“JARVIS, show him,” Tony ordered.

The TV screen on the other side of the kitchen came to life.  Dozens of images were on it, articles from the internet mostly and a few newspapers.  There were some people blathering for some establishment called TMZ.  They were analyzing loads of pictures apparently snapped yesterday afternoon by the paparazzi of Pepper going in and out of baby boutiques with bags and assistants carrying boxes.  _“Pepper Potts pregnant?”_ read one headline.  _“Stark knocks up girlfriend.”  “Iron Munchkin?”  “Tony’s partying ways finally catch up with him.”  “Maria Stark Foundation Gala canceled – Stark unhappy with news?”_ Steve groaned, watching as the flock of idiots started dissecting pictures of Pepper from recent events, arrows pointed at her supposed baby bump.  “Tony,” he said, turning away in anger and disgust.  He found he couldn’t meet his friend’s gaze.  “Tony, I’m so sorry.”

That pierced Tony’s irate scowl.  His expression softened.  Steve could only imagine that he was hurt underneath his usual coolness.  Just like how he’d been hurt talking about Pepper’s miscarriage.  He’d put on a good act, hiding under fake smiles and “it’s better this way”, but Steve knew him too well not to see that, deep down where Tony probably couldn’t even admit it to himself, he’d been upset that Pepper had lost their baby.  This was cruel, and the media didn’t even know the half of it.  “Eh, it’s alright, Steve-o.  I’ve been through this before for worse things, things that were actually my fault, I might add.  And I’m invincible.  They’ll move on.  Hopefully.”  He took a sip from his coffee.  “Although they really ought to be lecturing Pep on her unsafe shopping practices rather than me for my alleged unsafe sex practices.”

Steve didn’t feel much better for Tony’s dismissal of it all.  “This does bring up a practical point, though,” Bruce said.  He looked at Steve pointedly.  “I don’t know what you intend long-term, but unless you plan on staying inside the Tower all the time, we’re going to have to figure out _something_ to tell the press.  Something tells me Captain America having a baby out of wedlock isn’t going to go over too well with the masses.”

Steve blanched.  He honestly hadn’t considered that.  Well, he had, but not directly.  It had been another poorly formed thought vaguely drifting around in the back of his head, another problem for which he had no solution, another question he couldn’t answer.  So he’d filed it away, ignored it for all intents and purposes.  But Bruce was far too smart and too much of a pragmatist to let it slide.  Thankfully, Tony chimed in.  “Hey, it’s not 1940 anymore.  There are single parents all over the place now.  It’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

“I’m not ashamed of anything,” Steve said quickly.  Too quickly.

“Sure, you’re not.  You and your golden generation sensibilities.”

“What business is it of theirs, anyway?” Steve muttered darkly, turning back to his breakfast.

Tony shrugged.  “In an ideal world?  None.  But we live in the real world, and Bruce is right.  We’re going to have to come up with some sort of an explanation that doesn’t involve the truth.  Or you doing something that Captain America wouldn’t do.”

Steve swallowed down his pancakes.  He was back to not tasting anything.  “Can we not deal with that right now?” he asked.  Maybe that was the coward’s way out.

Bruce set his hand on Steve’s shoulder.  He offered a gentle smile.  “Sure.”

“Hey, we’ll put Pepper on it.  You’ve seen her in action.  She’ll take care of it.  She’s been cleaning up after me for forever,” Tony said.

“Good morning, my fellow shield brothers!”  Thor’s booming voice echoed from the other end of the kitchen.  He was dressed in gray sweatpants and a white t-shirt that proudly proclaimed “Desert State” across its breast in faded blue lettering.  He looked a tad ridiculous, all mussed blond hair and bulging muscles, but then he always sort of did when he put on Midgardian attire.  “The man in the walls informed me there was breakfast to be had.”

“Sit down,” Tony said, gesturing to an empty stool beside Steve.  “Knock yourself out.”

“Why would I wish to inflict injury upon myself?” Thor asked quizzically as he settled himself onto a stool beside Steve.  Tony gave him a wan look.  “Ah, another of your colloquialisms.”

“You got it.”

Steve half expected Thor to ask what “it” was and what he should do with it now that he had it, but the demigod didn’t.  He was pretty sure Thor played dumb about some things occasionally just to get a rise out of Tony and the others.  Thor was significantly cleverer than most people realized.  “I shall have whatever you are serving, if you would be so kind, Tony.”

“Not sure how I got elected to wait on everyone this morning,” Tony grumbled, but he went about loading up Thor’s plate with a ton of eggs, bacon, sausage, and pancakes nonetheless.  Thor ate about as much as Steve did, and Tony had ordered up enough food to feed a veritable army.

Thor clasped Steve on the shoulder.  “You look weary, my friend.  Did the babe not sleep?”

Steve didn’t feel like retreading.  “No, not much.  But I’m alright.”

Thor patted Steve before settling into his breakfast with his usual amount of enthusiasm.  “Perhaps when I am finished here, I can oversee her for a bit so you can rest more.”

“Thor, it’s o – wait.  What?”

Thor smiled cheekily.  “Believe it or not, I have had experience nurturing young ones.  On Asgard, the birth of a child is a mighty affair, and as the king’s son, I was often charged with holding the new one and bestowing upon it a kiss of good fortune and a blessing of long life.”

Tony’s face crinkled in amusement.  “You mean you basically posed for a photo-op.”

Thor shook his head.  “I do not take your meaning.”

Bruce hid a chuckle.  “It’s like when a politician holds a baby and gives it a kiss with the mother right there in front of the camera so people can take pictures.  Something to make the guy look down-to-earth and friendly.  A feel-good gesture.”

“I did feel good about it,” Thor said, draining his cup of coffee in a single slurp.  Steve chuckled in spite of himself.  Apparently this was another thing he and Thor had in common.  When it came to it, this was the extent of the experience they had with babies.  Smiling for a show with a mother excitedly clinging on their arms.  Thor finished his drink and looked up at Tony.  “I hesitate to mention it lest it is false, but I cannot allow myself to be remiss if it is not.  Are congratulations in order?”

Tony’s face darkened just slightly.  “Not unless you’re congratulating me for single-handedly putting the kids of every employee of Buy Buy Baby through college.”

Thor didn’t look pleased.  “It is unfortunate your… reporters, if they can be called that, jump to such improper conclusions.”

“That’s one way to put it.  A much nicer way than I would have.”

Steve couldn’t stand it anymore.  “Guys,” he said, rising from his seat.  “This isn’t going to work.  I can’t do this to you.”

Tony regarded him with eyes that were somehow simultaneously annoyed and concerned.  “Can’t do what to us?”

Steve sighed and raked a hand through his mussed hair.  “Cause you all this trouble.  Change your lives like this.  Cause people to publish lies about you.  I don’t care if you think it’s okay.  It wouldn’t have happened if I hadn’t…”  He couldn’t finish.

“Cap, I’m sure Pepper’s not mad.”  Tony tipped his head in concession.  “At least, not at you.”

He thought about his room, being torn apart and remodeled.  He thought about Pepper’s reputation and Tony’s wallet and all of the mess they still had in front of them.  He thought about being Captain America.  Could he still be Captain America?  And if he couldn’t, was it right to fail the team like this?  “I’ll go.  Get back my place in Brooklyn.  It’s alright.  I’ve got my own money.  I can handle–”

“Steve, no.”

“Do not be ridiculous.”

“Oh, Captain-of-Little-Memory-and-Even-Less-Listening.  We went over this last night.”  Tony shook his head, but now his worry was trumping everything else.  And a little shame, like he was realizing his disquiet about this whole situation (the rumors around Pepper notwithstanding) was upsetting Steve.  “As long as I don’t have to change diapers or wipe butts or clean up any bodily fluids, it’s fine.  You’re staying.”

Steve slumped slightly, uncertain of what to say to convince them that this wasn’t a good idea.  He ended up not having a chance to argue.  “Captain Rogers,” JARVIS called, “Ms. Potts asked me to summon you.  She is afraid she must go, and you must take Miss Sarah from her.”

 _Miss Sarah._   That sounded… weird and oddly official.  “Alright, JARVIS.  Tell her I’m coming.”

Thor pushed his empty plate away and stood too.  “If it is well with you, Steve, I would like to join you and render you any assistance I can.”  He offered his friend an easy smile.

Steve was tempted to say no.  It wasn’t that he didn’t want Thor’s company or his help (whatever help he could give at any rate).  He just didn’t want yet another reminder that he was causing trouble for his friends.  And he didn’t want anyone else to see that he had no idea what he was doing.  They knew him as Captain America, who always had a plan, who was a rock, who didn’t falter or even get emotional.  And that was all he’d been doing since yesterday morning.  Faltering and getting emotional.  Still, Thor was being sincere, and he couldn’t turn that away.  “Sure.”

“Hey, when you guys are done, bring her down to the lab,” Bruce called as they started walking away.  “I’d like to get some baseline data and start running some tests.”  Steve must have looked as worried and unhappy with that as he felt, because Bruce immediately smiled disarmingly.  “Nothing serious.”

That didn’t exactly put Steve at ease, but he felt okay enough to nod.  Together Steve and Thor headed to the elevator, where JARVIS took them to Steve’s floor.  Steve could tell Thor wanted to say something, something to make him feel better or set his mind at ease, but aside from a few not so inconspicuous glances his way, Thor was still.  As the elevator deposited them on Steve’s floor, Thor finally found it within himself to speak.  “There is football tonight.  The Giants of New York are fighting the Cowboys of Dallas.  Perhaps we could watch it together?”

Thor loved football.  Apparently it reminded him of a sport on Asgard that was a cross between wrestling and warring over a flag or something like that.  Steve preferred baseball, but he knew how much Thor enjoyed watching games with him.  “Sure, if I can.”

Thor looked momentarily dismayed, like he hadn’t considered that Sarah could be fussy or hungry or otherwise requiring Steve’s attention.  That babies were responsibilities that disrupted activities and trumped plans.  They reached Steve’s suite.  The racket coming from inside was substantial.  “What is happening?” Thor asked as they beheld the chaos.  More than a dozen construction guys were working, bearing tools and drywall and blueprints.

“Don’t ask,” Steve groaned.

He headed past the mess and down the hall a little to find Pepper talking on her phone, directing the construction crew, and holding a screaming Sarah all the same time.  She had her phone tucked between her ear and her shoulder, and she was trying to shush Sarah in between fast-paced words.  “No.  I don’t – no, we are not releasing a statement.  No press conference.  Nothing.  I don’t care.  I–”  She looked up, saw Steve approaching, and her face melted in relief.  “There’s no baby bump to see!  I don’t know where they’re getting this from.  And I told Tony that outfit made my stomach look poofy.  No.  No!  Alright.  Okay.”  She pulled the phone from her ear and angrily thumbed the screen to end the call.  “What a mess.”  Steve opened his mouth to apologize, but she was already handing him the baby.  “Here, Steve.  I’m sorry.  I hate to just run on you like this, but we’re having a major crisis out in Malibu and I need to be in on a conference call in five minutes.”

Steve took Sarah from her.  “Pepper, it’s fine.  You don’t need to explain it.”

If she heard him, it wasn’t obvious.  She was already jogging away.  “She slept for a couple of hours and just had a bottle.”

“Um, okay.  What–”

“Bye!”

Sarah was squirming in his arms, working herself up good and proper into hysterics.  Steve huffed out a breath, tucking the baby closer to his chest.  “Alright, baby girl.  Let’s… uh…”  He felt her diaper.  “Let’s change you.  And get you dressed.”

The two Avengers walked deeper into the suite, away from the ruckus and activity, and back into the guest room whereupon Thor firmly shut the door behind them to block out some of the noise.  Steve laid Sarah on the changing table and went to work unsnapping the sleeper she’d worn the night before.  Thor stood at his side, looking down on the baby.  They probably made quite a sight, the two of them with all of the muscles and strength and power and bravery, staring down helplessly at a crying baby.  “See if you can find her something to wear,” Steve suggested as he wrestled with the diaper.

Thor moved away.  “Where?  Here?”

Steve glanced over his shoulder to the dresser.  “Yeah, I think.  There should be some stuff there that Pepper had washed.”  He got the wet diaper off and opened the drawer of the table, searching for a new one.  All the diapers from SHIELD were gone.  Pepper had of course bought more ( _a lot_ more), but they were different.  There were cartoon characters all over them.  Which way was the front?  “Um…”  He flipped it over repeatedly, squinting and shaking his head, and finally just picked a way.

Thor came back with a pink outfit _thing_ with tulle and bows and so many snaps and ties that he couldn’t even fathom getting that on her.  “No.  Find something else.”

“I am not certain for what I should be looking,” Thor admitted with a touch of frustration.

“I don’t know.  Isn’t there just a shirt and some pants?” Steve asked, sliding the diaper under Sarah’s rear and getting it secured.  It didn’t seem quite right, but Thor was back with some tiny gray stretchy pants and a pink and gray top.  That was good enough.  Steve wriggled Sarah into it; dressing her was one of the things he found the most daunting because he was always worried he’d pull too hard on an arm or force a leg to bend a way it wasn’t meant to because of his strength.  Still, after another minute of squirming and scrambling, he got her dressed.  “Alright.  There we are.”  He lifted Sarah up to his shoulder, her rear in his palm and his fingers cradling her head, as he situated her blanket back on the table.  A few pulls and wraps later, she was swaddled.  “Hand me that thing.”  Thor picked up a pacifier from the baby’s bassinet between his forefinger and thumb and wrinkled his nose as he gave it to Steve.  Steve got it into Sarah’s mouth, and pretty soon she was sucking and happier.

Steve sighed and wearily collapsed into the glider by the windows of the room.  “I don’t know what I’m doing, Thor,” he admitted.

Thor grabbed an ottoman from the center of the room and pulled it over to Steve’s side.  He planted himself on it, leaning closer to see Sarah.  Her tiny hand was curled around the outside of the pacifier in her mouth.  “What is there to know?”  Steve wanted to say more, but he couldn’t.  Thor smiled, brushing his fingers over Sarah’s hair.  “She is beautiful.  And she is a blessing.”  He smiled at Steve.  “Often times those things are found unexpectedly.”  That warmth came back.  It was timid but true, and Steve couldn’t help but smile a little, too.  “Allow me to hold her while you shower.”

That surprised Steve.  Aside from Pepper (and Bruce, but strictly for medical purposes), none of the team had offered to hold Sarah.  “You sure?”

“I would not have offered otherwise.”

A shower would be nice, actually.  He was pretty sure he had some dried spit-up on him (how Tony hadn’t noticed that, he’d never know but he was really grateful nonetheless).  He stood and allowed Thor to take his place; he looked goofy in the glider (the Prince of Asgard in a nursery rocker, for Pete’s sake), but he held open his arms.  Steve gently lowered Sarah into them.  Thor smiled as he reverently took her.  “There, there, little one,” he said in hushed, loving tone.

“You need to keep her head supported.”

Thor glanced up at Steve.  “Of course.”

“You got to be careful to make sure the blanket doesn’t get too tight or hot around her.  And that it doesn’t get up around her face.”

“Yes.”

“And she likes it when you rock her and pat her at the same time.”  Thor started to do that at a faster pace than Steve would have done.  He swallowed and shook his head a little.  “And you gotta watch your strength.  I forget sometimes how much stronger we are than her, and, you know, it’s–”

“Steve, you are hovering.”  He was, wasn’t he.  He flushed with embarrassment and stepped back from looming over Thor’s shoulder.  The demigod nodded at him with a confident smile.  “She is fine.  Go.”

So Steve went.  And he took the fastest shower in the history of fast showers.  He was in the process of brushing his teeth when he heard Thor call him from the room beyond the bathroom.  The demigod sounded… _distressed_.  Panicked, he tugged on some boxers, jeans, and a white undershirt and ran out.  He couldn’t have been gone more than ten minutes!  “What?  What happened?”

Thor was standing, holding Sarah far in front of him under her arms.  “I fear something has gone wrong,” he said.  Sarah was still mostly asleep despite how she was being held.  “She has soiled herself.  And me in the process.  I was unaware that one could do… _that_ … while sleeping.”

Steve grimaced.  Apparently his diapering job hadn’t been right at all, because the baby had gone and it hadn’t stayed contained, to put it mildly.  Boy, what a mess.  He could see it through her shirt up her back.  And on Thor’s sweatpants.  “Sorry.”

“It is, uh, no bother,” Thor said, although he didn’t look quite sure.  “However, I would much appreciate it if you would take her.”

Steve did, wrinkling his nose at the smell and the squish under his fingers.  _Yuck._   “Bath?”

“Indeed.”

* * *

A bath and a new outfit later, Thor and Steve took Sarah down to Bruce’s lab.  She was dressed in black and white polka dot pants and a red top that had lady bugs on it.  Steve had to admit it was pretty cute, and it was nice that it wasn’t pink.  Thor was also freshly changed into jeans and a blue Oxford shirt, his blond hair brushed and pulled into a pony tail.  Steve had found himself a green polo.  They looked normal, like this was any other day.  Except, of course, the three week-old infant lovingly cradled in the nook of Steve’s right arm and the pink bag adorned with butterflies and stuffed full of supplies draped over Thor’s shoulder.

When JARVIS let them into the lab, Tony took one look at them and broke out laughing.  Thor shook his head.  “I fail to see what is so amusing.”

“You,” Tony sputtered, red in the face, “with that.”  He pointed at the diaper bag.  “Seriously?  Will your hammer still find you worthy after this?  Is your manliness shriveling?  Just a little?”

“Nay, it requires a man truly comfortable with himself to carry a bag this fashionable,” Thor returned evenly.  “I doubt you would be capable, Stark.”

“Definitely not,” Tony returned.  He wiped his eyes with an elongated sigh and went back to whatever he was working on.

“Hey,” Bruce said in greeting as he walked in from one of the annexes of the lab.  He offered Steve a warm smile.  “And hello there,” he said to Sarah where she laid in Steve’s arm.  The baby’s eyes didn’t quite focus on Bruce.  In fact, she looked a little cross-eyed.

“Is that normal?” Steve asked.

“Pretty sure.  Her vision’s developing, just like everything else.  Here, bring her over.”  Steve followed Bruce to an examination table, which Bruce had already covered in a blanket.  “I’m just gonna give her a quick general exam.  SHIELD already did all this, but I’d like to do it again, if you don’t mind.”  Steve nodded and carefully set Sarah on the table.  “Mind getting her clothes off?”

Steve offered Bruce a look that was not at all pleased.  “I just got her dressed.”

Bruce shrugged and smiled a tad sheepishly.  “When they’re this little, the clothes actually factor into their weight.”  Steve was tired and cranky enough to actually wonder if Bruce was just being a jerk, but he snapped out of it.  Bruce was never a jerk.  He set to pulling off Sarah’s socks and pants and shirt.  Thor and Tony were watching him work while Bruce readied some things, including a tablet or two to store his notes and data.  Sarah was definitely not fond of the cold as Rebecca had said, so the minute she was naked, her little arms and legs flailed and all semblance of happiness vanished.

“Well, she certainly has a good set of lungs,” Tony remarked.

“Look at her trying to lift her head,” Bruce remarked as he measured and prodded.

“Yes, she is quite strong,” Thor agreed.

“That unusual?” Steve asked.

Bruce shrugged.  “No idea.  I did some research last night, but I’m not an expert in neonatal development.  How is she eating?”

“Is that important?” Steve asked, automatically setting his hand to Sarah’s forehead as she squirmed and squealed.

Bruce glanced up at him as he stuffed his stethoscope in his ears.  “Well, aside from being a fairly standard question, if she’s eating more than normal, that might indicate she’s feeding a metabolism running faster than normal.”

Steve’s eyes widened in understanding.  “Um, well, she’s been having a bottle every couple of hours.”

“How much?”

“Four to six ounces of formula.  Is that more than normal?”

Bruce shrugged again.  “I don’t think so.”  Steve felt his spirits plummet.  He wasn’t sure what he wanted, her to have the serum or not.  Both seemed equally frightening.  His dismay must have appeared on his face because Bruce was quick to continue.  “It doesn’t necessarily mean anything.”  He prodded Sarah’s little belly.  “It’s going to take some time to get through the genetic analysis.  We’ll know more then.  Hopefully.”

Tony clasped Steve on the shoulder.  “Patience, young grasshopper.”

“Well, she looks completely healthy.  You’re doing an excellent job, Steve.”  Bruce smiled at Steve, and Steve thought for just a moment that Banner might have just been shining him on.  Patronizing just a tad, but not intentionally.  After all, Steve had only been at this for a day.  One single day.  However, Bruce was just trying to be supportive.  “I’m just going to get her weight,” Bruce announced as he undid Sarah’s diaper and worked his hands under her.  He cradled her head and rear in each palm and walked carefully over to the scale.

“Do you believe this wise?” Thor asked, furrowing his brow at the diaper still sitting on the examination table.  “Surely that would not greatly alter the measurement.”

“Might as well be accurate,” Bruce said confidently, setting Sarah on a scale and reading the output.  “Alright.  Come here, Sarah.”  He scooped her up again.

And she promptly peed all over him.

Steve winced, gritting his teeth.  Bruce grunted in surprise, automatically moving the baby away, but it was too late.  Thor shook his head.  And Tony just laughed.  “I guess I had that coming,” Bruce said with half a chuckle.  Sarah was squirming happily in his arms, like she was proud of herself.

Thor certainly was.  He winked at Steve.  “As you can see, I am far more knowledgeable in the science of child-rearing than you thought.”

* * *

The rest of the day went by smoothly, if Steve did say so himself.  Bruce finished up his examination with a promise to keep working on determining if Sarah truly had inherited the super soldier serum.  Steve knew he would.  The full genetic analysis would take a couple more days to run, but once it did, Bruce promised a prompt report.  Steve diapered and dressed Sarah again before heading back upstairs, Thor at his side.  The demigod seemed completely unwilling to leave him, joining him for lunch and generally keeping him company for most of the day.  Pepper had thankfully re-emerged when they grew restless in the afternoon, and immediately offered to take Sarah for an hour so that Steve and Thor could have a break, which they took in the form of sparring.  Most others wouldn’t consider that rest, but Steve found it liberating and therapeutic, to completely lose himself in physical exertion for a bit.  Thor was much stronger than him, but Steve was fast and a master combatant, which made their match challenging and rewarding for both of them.  Steve emerged from the gym feeling pleasantly sore and tired, his muscles tingling and loose with the sort of exertion that came from a truly strenuous work-out, and he left Thor to shower again.  He returned to the main common floor to find Sarah in one of the infant swings Pepper had purchased and Pepper herself picking through the tabloids on her tablet.

“I’m so sorry.”  She turned at his voice, setting her StarkPad aside.  “For what happened with the rumors and all that.  Really.”

She sighed.  “Don’t worry about it, Steve,” she said, rising from the couch and offering up a disarming smile.  “I’ve been working for Tony for years.  I’ve got a thick skin.”

Steve walked over to the swing.  The cradle was moving gently left and right, and soft music was playing.  Sarah was sound asleep, sucking occasionally on her pacifier.  Steve didn’t dare disturb her.  “Tony’s right, though,” he said softly.  “I need some sort of story about where she came from.  I can’t just stay in the Tower forever.”  He’d been contemplating it off and on throughout the day but never with much success.

Pepper stood and walked over to stand beside him.  “That shouldn’t be too hard.  You adopted her.  She’s an orphan whose parentage isn’t known.  You found her on a mission for SHIELD and brought her home.  That last part at least isn’t too far from the truth.  If you can get SHIELD to go along with that story, it’ll be beyond question.”  Just like that, she had an answer.  She always did.  She slid an arm around Steve’s shoulders.  Considering how broad he was, that was a feat.  “There’s a way to make this work.”  Tenderly she grinned.  “There always is.  Take it from an expert on making things work.”

Steve nodded.  “Thanks, Pepper.”

“I’ve got some work I need to do, but I’d be more than happy to take her later on if you need.”

“Okay.”

Pepper left, and Steve sat on the couch beside the swing.  He reached over and adjusted the blanket covering Sarah so that it wasn’t dragging on the floor.  He intended to lie down for just a minute, but the second his head hit the pillow of the couch, he was out.

He didn’t get to sleep long.  Sarah let out a keening cry, and Steve jerked awake.  He fumbled for a minute, disoriented, before scrambling to his feet.  “Alright, baby girl,” he mumbled, stumbling to the kitchen across the way.  Pepper had apparently emptied out an entire cabinet for bottles and formula.  Steve was idly surprised at how efficient he’d already become at making a bottle.  He was back with the warmed formula in a minute, and he got Sarah out of the swing and onto his lap with the bottle in her mouth.

He dozed while she drank.  The workout had been enjoyable, but it had really wiped him out.  Well, it and everything else.  The pleasant haze of being half asleep lasted a few minutes at most.  “Hey, Cap.”

Steve jolted awake again, instinctively tightening his grip on Sarah.  He looked down, ashamed to have been so selfish as to fall asleep like that, but she was still contentedly drinking away.  Apparently she’d guzzled most of her bottle.  And then he looked up to find Clint behind the other couch.  The archer looked a little uncertain and a lot uncomfortable, glancing between him and Sarah but mostly at Sarah.  “This a bad time?”

Steve sat up straighter, scrubbing a hand down his face.  “No.  No, it’s fine.  What is it?”

Clint came around the couch and sat on the other side, keeping as much distance as he could.  He wasn’t very subtle about it, but Steve didn’t take offense.  “So I did some nosing around at HQ today.  Nat’s doing the same out on the helicarrier.  No one, and I mean _no one_ , knows a thing about this team that found the baby.  There’s nothing on the books, no missions on the log at the Hub, no supplies req’ed.  Nothing.”

That was… disturbing.  And it didn’t make any sense.  Steve, Clint, and Natasha were all agents with level 8 clearance.  That would suggest that whatever this team was, information concerning it was secured at a level to which only Hill and Fury had access.  “Why keep it so secret?”

Clint shrugged.  “That’s the million dollar question, isn’t it?  I looked into Agent May.  She was given a desk job after an incident in Bahrain.  She was dutifully doing it up until about six months ago, when she was reassigned.  I can’t get any more than that.  She doesn’t exactly have a lot of friends I could ask and no family.”

Steve shifted Sarah a little.  “What happened in Bahrain?”

Clint pursed his lips slightly.  “Not sure.  She was part of a ‘welcome wagon’ mission, where SHIELD dispatches agents and operatives to make contact with a previously unknown individual who may or may not possess resources and/or skills SHIELD is interested in.  Mission went south into some sort of hostage situation.  May went in, rescued the hostages, and crossed off the individual.  Earned herself the nickname of ‘The Cavalry’.”

Given what Steve had seen of May’s personality, that seemed fitting.  “What else?”

Clint shook his head.  “That’s about it.  Without more info on what this team really is, it’s going to be hard to track down what they were really doing in China.”

That didn’t sit well.  “You don’t believe their story?”

“Maybe.  Maybe not.”  Steve set the bottle to the coffee table and sat Sarah up to burp her.  “This is, uh, kinda weird, I gotta say.  Talking shop while you’re doing… that.”

Steve didn’t know what Clint wanted him to do.  “Sorry?”

“No, it’s alright.  Just saying.  Anyway, whatever this team is, whatever they’re doing…  It must be SHIELD’s best kept secret.  I’ve got sources everywhere, and no one’s talking.  And Natasha…  Well, you know what she’s capable of.”  Steve did indeed.  “The sort of pull required to keep something like this secret can only come from up top.”

“Fury,” Steve surmised unhappily.  Sarah finally got the pocket of air out.  Loudly.

Clint seemed impressed.  “Yeah.  I don’t know what he’s hiding, but he’s hiding something.”

Sarah started squirming unhappily, like that one burp hadn’t been enough.  Steve tried to comfort her.  “There were two others from this team.  They came down to the medical bay when I leaving yesterday.  One was a civilian named Skye.”

“Just Skye?  And what kind of name is that?”

“Got me.  I got the impression she didn’t say her last name because she didn’t have one.  The other was an agent.  Grant Ward.”

Clint’s eyes narrowed.  “I know him.  Hell of an operative, but he has about as much personality as a rock.  But that gives me more to work with.  I’ll let Nat know, and we’ll do a workup on Ward.  She should be back tonight.”

Sarah was refusing the rest of her bottle.  Steve fumbled to get her in a position she liked, but there didn’t seem to be one, so he stood, shushing and patting and rubbing her back.  He accidentally dropped the bottle as he tried to rearrange her, the blanket, and the burp cloth.  “Can you get that?”

Clint looked mortified in a way Steve had never seen, and he’d seen Clint in some horrendous life or death situations.  “Uh, sure.”  He scooted off the couch and made a grab for the bottle.  Just as he did, Sarah burped again.  Steve winced as he felt something wet soak into his shoulder.  Then Clint wailed.  “Gya!”  Steve whirled, pulling Sarah away, to find Clint covered in spit-up.  “What the heck is this?”

 _Not again._   “Sorry!  Here.”  He thrust the cloth at Clint.  Clint was white-faced, wiping at his hair and shirt frantically.  Steve resisted the urge to roll his eyes a little at the other man’s horror.  “It’s just spit-up.  It happens.”  He never imagined himself saying something like that, let alone believing it.

“That was not spit-up!  That was projectile vomiting!  Is her head going to start spinning _?_ ”  Clint bolted like Sarah could unleash more at him, scrambling back a few good feet in abject terror to the other side of the couch.  “You know, from that movie _The_ –”

“Saw it,” Steve cut in.  “Not funny.”  Déjà vu all over again.  Maybe Tony was right about him reliving things.  Like his daughter making a heck of a mess.  In her struggling, it was all over her face and in her hair and…  _Ugh._

“Nice talking to you, Cap,” Clint said before not so gracefully running away.

Steve sighed, not even sure where to start.  After a second, he lifted Sarah closer to his ruined shirt and headed back to his room.  “Here we go again.”

* * *

All in all, the day had gone well, he supposed.  Two baths, three outfits for her.  Two showers and three shirts for him.  And three teammates suffering collateral damage.  But he’d survived, more or less.  “You know what’s the best part, though?” Tony said as he handed Bruce and Clint beers before grabbing a few fries from one of the open containers on the coffee table.  He sat with some flourish between Clint and Bruce.  “I didn’t get pooped on, peed on, _or_ puked on.”  He cocked a smug eyebrow and stuffed the fries in his mouth.

“Ha ha,” Clint said, freshly showered himself and wearing a plaid button down shirt over a black t-shirt.  He seemed remarkably okay now, given the look of pure petrification he’d had before.  He opened his beer.  “Give it time.”

Thor was devouring his burger.  Somehow his tentative plan to watch the football game with Steve had evolved into a full-fledged team night.  The others had all convened about an hour ago, squabbling about what to have for dinner among other things.  JARVIS had put the debate to rest and ordered some take-out from one of the closer delis.  An impressive array of sandwiches, burgers, chips, and fries was strewn across the table.  “I consider it a rite of initiation,” the demigod declared proudly, sharing a knowing look with Steve.  For his own part, Steve sagged wearily into the couch, Sarah contentedly watching him in his arms.  He’d eaten his sandwich in all of two bites before, doing it quickly as Sarah had squirmed in her swing.  Yet another rushed meal.  He had had no idea parenthood required so much rushing.  Thor had offered to hold her so he could take his time, but he had politely declined.  Honestly, the thought of another accident on somebody else leading to _another_ bath was too daunting to think about.

“Your disturbing enthusiasm for being covered in bodily fluids is duly noted,” Tony said.

“Once the Warriors Three and I were sent to slaughter a lindworm plaguing Vanaheim.  The fight went ill, and I was swallowed by–”

“Okay.  TMI.  You can stop with that one.”

Thor laughed.  “I would have not thought you so squeamish, Tony.”

Tony looked a tad insulted but mostly embarrassed.  “I’m not squeamish.  Not at all.  I just prefer not to be covered in spoo, if it’s all the same.”

The TV was on and turned to some twenty-four hour sports network where the anchors were chatting loudly about the upcoming football game.  “Oh, come on,” Clint said.  “Don’t be such a wuss.”

“As I recall, friend Barton, I saw you running quite fearfully yourself back up to your suite after you were regurgitated upon,” Thor teased.

“Spit-up,” Steve corrected wearily.  “Not… never mind.”

Clint huffed.  “All I’m saying is maybe next time she can aim at Uncle Tony.”

“Uncle Tony?”

“Guys, I’m sor–”

“Honest to God, if you apologize one more time, Rogers, I am going to kick your butt.  Hard.  With the suit,” Tony warned.  He was joking (mostly).  “Enough.”  His tone was firm and left no room for argument.

Steve flushed slightly.  In the low evening light, it probably wasn’t noticeable.  “You know,” Bruce began, ever the voice of practicality and reason, “this _is_ what babies do.  They make messes.  They eat and sleep and…  Well, you all know what.  They have immature digestive tracks and small stomachs.  And this isn’t exactly appropriate dinner conversation, by the way.”

“Oh, please, Banner.  We’ve talked about more disgusting things.”  Tony took a swig of beer.  “At least Sarah’s cute.  So it’s forgivable.”

Steve looked down on her, warmed again.  She was falling asleep now, sucking on her pacifier, nestled into his chest.  He shifted her slightly, turning her on her belly a little and situating her closer to his neck.  She seemed to like the warmth and closeness.  Honestly, so did he.  He breathed deeply of her hair, so soft to his chin.  She smelled like lavender baby wash and like _her_ , a scent that was unique and comforting and already so familiar to him.  “You alright there, Cap?” Clint asked.

Steve tore himself from his contented daze.  “What?  Oh, yeah.  Yeah, I’m fine.”

The game was starting.  The others were discussing the kick-off.  Down the hall the doors opened, and the sound of boots on the floor drew the group’s attention.  Natasha appeared a moment later.  Her face was calm and composed as it always was.  But when her eyes settled upon the group, her gaze hardened slightly.  Steve could see her look at him, at Sarah, but she didn’t let her gaze linger.  “Hey,” Tony called.  “How was skulking and sleuthing?”

“Unproductive.”

“Bummer.  You want something to eat?  We have plenty.  And the game’s about to start.”

She donned a smile.  So easily she slipped into a façade, and she had a mask for every occasion.  But Steve saw through it.  Clint did, as well.  “Come join us,” the archer said.  “You can hear about all the fun today.”

She ignored that.  “And watch a bunch of men wrestling over a stupid ball and smacking each other on the butt?  No thanks.”  She continued walking down the hall.  “I’m going to turn in early.  Fury’s sending me out tomorrow morning.”  And that was it.  She was gone.

Clint shared a worried look with Steve, but neither of them said anything or made any move to follow her.  Natasha was an incredibly private person.  Even after working together for almost a year, Steve still found her to be something of a mystery.  There were plenty of things about her and her past that he didn’t know.  If she didn’t want to talk, there was no way to force her.  Still, Steve had seen something in her when she’d looked at him and Sarah.  Fear.  Disquiet.  But more than that.  _Resentment._

He tried not to let that bother him as the game kicked off.  Pretty soon they were all fairly engrossed, even Bruce who was pretending to work.  Thor in particular but Clint and Tony as well got loud.  “What the heck was that?  Pass interference?  Total BS!”

“Is not the point of the defensive players to interfere with their opponents trying to score?” Thor asked in exasperation.  Clint tried to explain the nuances of the rules to Thor, who looked increasingly confused about it.  Despite the ruckus, Sarah slept through it.

About halfway through the first quarter, Steve started to feel sleepy, too.  The exhaustion from the last couple of days was catching up with him and catching up fast.  Despite his efforts to stay awake, his eyelids stubbornly slipped down.  And he should have moved to his room and put Sarah down in the bassinet, but that never turned into anything more than a transient thought.

“Cap’s out.”

“So is the baby.”

“Is it okay for her to sleep like this?”

“I don’t know, but why wouldn’t it be?”

“I don’t know.”

“Not to worry.  I will watch over them both.”

“Here.”

Something warm and soft draped over him and Sarah.  He vaguely felt a hand on his shoulder.  “Nngh,” he groaned.  “Just give me a minute.”

There was a low rumble of laughter that sounded like Tony.  “I think you’ve earned more than a minute.  Sleep.”

Maybe he had.  So he did.


	7. Chapter 7

A week passed simultaneously too fast and not fast enough.  But, then, everything was a contradiction in his life now.  He had this down pat, but he was still a tad uncertain and completely terrified.  He was tired and worn, but he woke up every day excited.  He felt fairly at peace with it all, but he still couldn’t believe this sometimes.  He was happy, but he was uneasy, too.  And the others were comfortable enough about it all, but he wasn’t convinced no matter how many times they told him.  Aside from Thor, Tony, and Pepper, the team was avoiding him.  Okay, _avoiding_ him might have been a strong way to put it, but that night in front of the football game had been the last time they’d all been (well, most of them anyway) together.

Part of that was definitely Steve’s fault.  Adjusting to life as it was now was taking quite a bit out of him.  He was learning the ins and outs of infant care, from how to change a crib sheet in the dark at two in the morning when a diaper didn’t hold to how to make a bottle one-handed while juggling a squirming, screaming baby in the other to how to deal with fussing calmly and patiently.  He was learning to sleep when Sarah slept.  He was learning her routines, what the best way of comforting her was.  He was learning her different cries, hungry from sleepy from cranky from uncomfortable from just plain wanting him.  And she was learning him.  He was noticing now that she fussed unhappily every time he handed her off to Pepper.  Sarah usually calmed herself in short order; Pepper had a way with her that marveled Steve sometimes, surprisingly animated but loving.  But she missed Steve on the occasions that he was away from her.  He missed her, as well.  It was amazing how quickly and completely she’d worked her way into his life, so much so that every time he was called away to consult on SHIELD or Avengers business, he worried about her.  He thought about her first thing every time he woke up and the last thing before he went to sleep.  She was consuming his world, and somehow that was okay.

Even just in this last week, Sarah had many more wakeful periods now, now that she was about a month old.  Steve talked to her and smiled at her and played with her whenever she was focused.  JARVIS’ suggestions of books and articles on newborn care and parenting had been useful reading, though he tried not to let it dictate how he did things too much because he was quickly realizing that _everyone_ had an opinion and they rarely coincided into anything useful.  The most salient snippet of advice he’d found had been on a message board connected to a parenting magazine in the midst of a huge online argument between out-spoken moms (how he’d ended up there, he couldn’t figure out – the internet still confused him).  Someone had said to “do what works for you”.  It was difficult to realize there wasn’t a “right way” to take care of her.  It really was a mixture of common sense, useless flailing, and making it work.  And love.  Maybe he didn’t feel that much more certain of himself, but he was entirely certain of that.  There was something about those long moments at night, rocking slowly and humming, watching her sleep so peacefully and trusting in his arms.  Something that went even beyond love.  It was hard to describe it, but he didn’t need to.  It was something just for him and for her to share.

Still, needless to say, he was starting to appreciate an entire new side of life.  A vast and sometimes terrifying world of parenthood.  His mother had raised him alone.  He’d never realized how hard it must have been for her, caring for a baby completely by herself, poor and destitute and burdened by her son’s health issues.  Steve had help and support and anything money could buy right at his fingertips.  It made him respect and love his mother all the more for what she’d done for him, what she’d sacrificed for him.  And it made him remember that all these things he had now, toys and swings and fancy clothes and conveniences, didn’t really matter when it came down to it.  Those times he spent with Sarah alone, rocking her to sleep and teaching her about love, were truly important.

This morning he took her outside on the balcony of his suite in Stark Tower.  The mid-October sky was slate gray, and it was fairly chilly.  The cold didn’t bother him so much, but he had her dressed in a fleece one-piece get-up and wrapped in a blanket on top of that with a hat on her head.  She’d just had a bottle, and now she was looking around, watching him as he drank his coffee and finished up a few reports from the last mission he’d run for SHIELD before all of this had happened.  Steve had dictated most of it to JARVIS, and now he was just checking it over, re-reading it on his StarkPad while he bounced Sarah in her little seat with his foot.  One of the things he was missing the most was going out.  He’d spent so much of his youth indoors because he’d been sick all the time, so being cooped up had never sat well with him.  He’d gone out a few times, of course, but never for long and always thinking about Sarah the whole while.  If this turned into something more, something established, they were going to have to work something out with the press.

Steve hadn’t thought much about that.  Bringing Sarah into the Tower hadn’t moved from a transient arrangement borne out of abruptness and convenience into something truly permanent, at least not officially.  Tony hadn’t said anything about it.  Neither had Bruce or Clint, and Natasha (and this flat out bothered him) simply hadn’t come back.  He knew she had returned from her mission days ago; he had his own connections at SHIELD, and they had informed him she was staying on the helicarrier, eager to work and not too picky about what she was doing.  Thor was the only one who seemed to just accept it, but Thor just accepted a lot of things.  Like Steve had realized before, his friends _said_ they were okay with this, but _saying_ they were okay and _being_ okay were two entirely different things.

Sarah squawked and then cooed, watching him with big blue eyes, her little hands reaching loose of the blanket again.  No matter how many times he readjusted it, she kept breaking free.  Seeing her change day to day was amazing.  Already she seemed to be her own little person, and she knew what she liked.  A lot of muscle development in the first few months was uncoordinated jerking and flailing, but as he looked down on her, all he could see was her reaching for him.  He set his work down and his coffee to the table beside the lounger.  “What?”  She cooed again, blinking with wide eyes and staring at him intently.  Steve couldn’t help his smile.  “Yeah, I’m done.”  He reached down, undid the straps for the little bouncy seat, and lifted her, blankets and all, into his lap.  He kissed her forehead and turned her so she could see better.  She was holding her head up more and more every day, and while he leaned her back against him for support, she kept stubbornly trying to lean forward.  It reminded him of something his mother used to say about him, about always trying to do things he couldn’t do.  “Want to see?”

He lifted her, keeping one hand on Sarah’s chest and putting the other under her bottom.  He stood and walked closer to the railing, not close enough that she was anywhere near it (call it irrational, but even with reflexes as battle-honed, enhanced, and fast as his were, he didn’t feel safe doing it).  A cool breeze picked its way through his hair, and he automatically adjusted Sarah’s cap so that her head was well covered.  He looked out over the city, watching the bustle down in Midtown below.  “Pretty big, baby girl.  Don’t think I’ll ever get used to it.”

“To what?  Having a baby?”  Tony’s voice came from the doors to the balcony behind him.  He smiled.  “Have to admit I can’t get used to seeing you with one.”

Steve smiled thinly.  “No.  The city like this.  It’s the same, but it’s not.”

“Lots of things seem to be like that.”

Steve didn’t miss his double meaning.  Or that Tony didn’t say “hello” to or really even acknowledge Sarah.  The novelty of it all had worn off pretty quickly, leaving only the awkwardness.  He’d seen Tony over the last few days (he’d seen Pepper far more, admittedly), and every time it had been like this.  Not actual lack of interest out of cruelty or anything close to it.  _Feigning_ lack of interest out of fear and discomfort.  And he feigned not noticing it for both their sakes’.  He turned Sarah and lifted her against his chest so her head was just at his shoulder, keeping a hand carefully on her back for support.  She liked looking around this way.  “Come down to appreciate the view with me?”

Tony shrugged and plodded over to the table to swipe Steve’s nearly full coffee cup.  He took a sip and made a face.  “Bleh.  Your tastes are the blandest in the history of bland.”

“So you keep telling me.”  Steve turned and bent at the knees to retrieve his work, and that put Sarah right in Tony’s line of sight.  But Tony looked away.  Steve pretended that it didn’t hurt.  “Hear anything from Clint?”

 Clint had left late last night on a mission to Turkey.  It had sounded like it was going to be a rather long one, a week or more.  Something about embedding himself in an illegal arms operation.  Tony took another drink from Steve’s cup.  “He made it over there.  Comms silent from here on out.”

Steve nodded.  He hated to admit it, but he felt pretty disconnected from everything.  Clint had left without Steve even knowing about it until after the fact.  This was the sort of op he’d used to run with Clint and Natasha, actually, and being out of it…  Well, it bothered him.  And it bothered him that after a week of investigating, Clint had found out nothing about Agent May’s mystery team.  He’d tried to track down Agent Ward and Skye to little avail; both of them and May had left the helicarrier almost immediately after Steve had taken Sarah, and where they’d gone was seemingly as secret as everything else about them.  All of Clint’s efforts had led him nowhere; this Skye girl appeared not to exist as far as SHIELD was concerned (which was a red flag more than anything), and the current assignments of Agent May and Agent Ward were sealed.  Clint had promised to keep looking, and he’d sworn Natasha would as well, but the world was frankly continuing onward around them with missions and business and other matters and this was all falling to the wayside.  Maybe that had been bound to happen, but the fact that it _was_ happening – that Natasha and Clint were away on missions for SHIELD and Tony was back to working for his company and Bruce and he were tinkering and inventing and experimenting again…  Even Thor, with his acceptance of everything.  It all felt to Steve like he was in this limbo, still unsure of where he was headed with the world rushing onward around him.

Steve headed back inside his suite, Tony following with the coffee that he was still drinking despite his complaints.  They went to the nursery, which had been finished a few days ago.  It was spacious, bigger than the entirety of the apartment in which he’d grown up, teeming with beautiful white furniture.  Pepper had painstakingly organized the over-abundance of clothes she’d purchased for Sarah in the walk-in closet (for Pete’s sake, _that_ was bigger than his apartment had been) and the dresser.  The crib was white as well, with pink sheets and a satin comforter draped over the side.  The glider he’d spent so many hours in was near the window, the blanket he’d used last night folded on the arm.  There were toys and stuffed animals neatly placed around on shelves and in a chest.  It looked picturesque, like something that would appear in a magazine for rich people designing rooms for their babies.  And it looked–

“Gya,” Tony moaned.  “Is it possible for it to be any pinker?  It’s like someone hosed it down in Pepto-Bismol.”

Steve laid Sarah on the changing table to get her out of the fleece outfit.  “That someone is your girlfriend,” he reminded.  “It was nice of her to do this.”

“Yeah,” Tony agreed, still taking in the overwhelming _girly-ness_ of it all.

Sarah gurgled, squirming as Steve capably worked her limbs free.  He smiled at her and patted her rear to see if she needed to be changed, but she was fine.  He lifted her back into his arms.  “And it’s nice of you to be here for moral support.”

“What?  Can’t I just want to check out Sarah’s new digs?  And see how you’re doing?”

Steve gave Tony a knowing and slightly long-suffering look.  “Come on.  You randomly check in on me _today_.  This has been going on for a week and you haven’t set foot in this room, and this morning of all mornings here you are.”

Tony grinned, but Steve knew he’d caught him red-handed.  “Okay, fine.”  His grin slipped.  “Are you okay?”

Steve had Sarah back on up his shoulder again.  Looking down at her made him worry too much.  Today was the day Bruce predicted the genetic analysis would be complete.  He’d been working on it all week, running Sarah’s DNA through multiple parsing algorithms and comparing it with Steve’s in an attempt to determine if the genetic markers for the serum were in her cells.  Those markers weren’t well-defined, as Bruce explained.  If they had been, matching Steve’s serum-enhanced genes to Sarah’s would be a simple matter.  But, as it was, the problem was significantly more complex.  Still, Bruce had informed both Tony and Steve over lunch a few days ago that he thought he’d have some answers soon.  And last night he’d mentioned at dinner that Steve should come by the following day ( _today_ ) so they could talk about what he’d discovered.  Since then, Steve had hardly been able to think about anything else.  He hadn’t slept much last night, either.  He was past concern, well past anxious even.  He was terrified, if he could admit it to himself.

And lying about it seemed fruitless.  He sighed, letting his weariness overrun him for a second.  “I don’t know.  Am I okay?  Sure, I’m okay.  Is she?”

“She’s fine,” Tony immediately answered, almost dismissively.  Again, Steve knew this wasn’t done to hurt his feelings, but he didn’t think Tony understood how he felt.  How could he?  “You worry too much.  You kinda did before, so this whole parenthood thing is only making it worse.”

Maybe Tony was right.  But the sheer extent of the unknowns involved, everything from if she had the serum and what that could mean to not having the serum and what _that_ could mean to having some sort of genetic abnormality…  The avenues for problems were numerous and each was as frightening as the last.  Steve cupped the back of Sarah’s head while she squirmed against his shoulder, leaning her back a little to press a kiss to the soft skin of her temple.  She calmed, her little hands balled into his shirt.  He wished it was as easy for him.

Tony finally went around Steve to get a look at Sarah.  “Tell your father to relax.  He’s driving himself nuts.”  Sarah cooed at him a little, and Steve smiled faintly.  “Look, Steve-o, I know everything about… well, pretty much _everything_ , but I’m not ashamed to admit I know nothing about this whole parenting thing.  Still, I’m pretty sure that worrying about kid stuff is as useless as worrying about any other stuff.”

“I know, Tony.”  _Like it’s so easy to stop._

“So here’s what we’re gonna do.  You and Little Miss America are coming with me to eat breakfast.  We’ll find something to watch on TV until Bruce is ready for you, something truly mind-numbing.  The stupider the better.  And then–”

“Sir,” JARVIS interrupted, “an Agent Blake of SHIELD is here.  He and his group are requesting access to the Tower.”

Steve’s heart clenched.  Normally he didn’t overstep Tony’s bounds; this was the Avengers Tower, but it was Stark Tower first and foremost and that meant Tony called the shots.  This time, though, he was doing it before he could stop himself.  A knee-jerk reaction if there had ever been one.  “Send them away, JARVIS.”

“Belay that, J,” Tony said.  He came around to Steve’s front.  He didn’t look pleased, but at least his brain was still functioning enough to be reasonable.  “Part of the arrangement, remember?”

Steve groaned.  On top of everything else, he _did not_ want to deal with this today.

* * *

It started off well enough, much to Steve’s surprise.  Blake wasn’t friendly or affable or even cordial, and he had absolutely no reservations about reminding them all that Sarah staying at Avengers Tower was not what he’d prefer.  But he wasn’t rude about it.  At least, not at first.  Needless to say, that didn’t last.

“With all due respect, Captain Rogers, surely by now you’ve realized you’re not equipped to handle this,” Blake said, eyeing Steve icily.  Obviously having to do this, come to the Avengers’ home turf and deal with a confrontational Captain America and Iron Man in order to get access to his work, was rubbing him raw.  Steve didn’t care in the least.  After meeting Blake in one of the common rooms and trading some terse salutations, they’d taken Sarah to one of Bruce’s labs, and the group of SHIELD doctors and researchers was examining her.  She was getting fussier by the second, unhappy to be cold and naked, unhappy to be away from her father.  It was hard to stand there and watch these strangers touch her.  “This would be significantly easier on everyone if you would just allow us to take her back to SHIELD.”

“Yeah, how about no,” Tony answered.  “It would be significantly easier if you would just take the data I gave you and use that.  Doctor Banner is a thorough guy, and he’s been checking up on the baby almost every day.  Everything you need to know is right there.”

Blake smiled thinly.  “Thank you, but we would prefer to take our own data.”

“You don’t trust Doctor Banner?  He’s probably the world’s foremost expert on Doctor Erskine’s work,” Tony said.  It was bait, pure and simple.  Tony was significantly pricklier with Blake this time.  Maybe it was because they were invading the Avengers’ home lives (as normal as those could be) and disrupting whatever meager peace of mind they had about the current situation.  Maybe he was trying to protect Steve from having to deal with this, knowing how on edge Steve was already feeling.  Maybe he was just honestly annoyed that Blake wasn’t taking his word (and their data) at face value.  It was probably a combination of all of that.  Steve just wanted them gone.  He didn’t trust Blake (or SHIELD, for that matter) right now, not in the least, and he didn’t want them anywhere near Sarah.  Honestly, with everything that had gone on, he’d pretty much forgotten about Blake and his agreement to let the other man and his scientists have access to the baby.

And this sort of nonsense was reminding him all too clearly of the reasons he hadn’t left Sarah with SHIELD in the first place.  “No, I don’t trust Doctor Banner,” Blake said, eyeing Tony like he was challenging him.  “Director Fury put me in charge of assessing and managing this situation, and I would like my people to have their own data to work with.  _Period._ ”

“You do realize who you’re talking to, right,” Tony said without a hint of mirth in his voice.

“You don’t intimidate me, Mr. Stark,” Blake returned, deadpan and completely confident.

Sarah started crying louder.  They’d pricked her heel, and one of the doctors was squeezing it to drain a few drops of blood into a receptacle another man held.  Steve winced.  This was the third sample they’d taken in the last ten minutes.  “Alright, that’s it,” he said, pushing his way closer to the table.

“Captain Rogers, please, you agreed to this,” Blake reminded.

The doctors moved closer together around the examination table, like they were trying to create a wall or barricade to keep him away.  Steve could hardly believe their audacity.  He was Captain America; they weren’t keeping him away.  He waited until they put a band-aid on Sarah’s poor heel before sweeping in with a small shove and scooping her into his arms.  He turned away, grabbing the blanket from another table and wrapping it protectively around her naked body.  “I said that’s it.  You got what you needed.”

Blake wasn’t satisfied.  His researchers were gathering up their samples, blood and urine and the like, making their notes on their computers and chatting amongst themselves like they were getting ready to leave, but he stepped right into Steve’s personal space.  Challenging.  Drawing this out further.  Who the heck did this guy think he was?  “We want imaging, too.  A CT or an MRI, neither of which can be done here.”

Tony frowned, coming to stand beside Steve.  He set a hand on Steve’s shoulder.  “I don’t think that’s necessary,” he said simply.  “How about you, Cap?”

“No,” Steve answered immediately, turning further like he was shielding Sarah from them with his own body.  Actually, there was no _like_ about that.  He was shielding Sarah from them with all of his two hundred plus pounds of pure muscle mass and six foot frame.  He held her tighter; she was shivering (probably from the cold, but he wasn’t convinced), so he wrapped the blanket about her even more completely and tucked her face down against him.  “No.  No imaging.”

Blake sighed in frustration.  “You have to realize we need to do this!” he snapped.  “Captain, I know you are a reasonable man.  She _needs_ to be studied.  We have no idea how she was created.  Surely it hasn’t escaped your attention that every other attempt to reproduce the serum has ended in a _serious_ threat to humanity.  The Red Skull.  The Hulk.  Just to name a few.”

“She’s not a threat,” Steve insisted again.  This was retreading the same ridiculous argument they’d had in Fury’s office more than a week ago.  It hurt more now than it did then, now on this day where Bruce had planned to give him some answers.  “She’s just a baby.”

Blake’s expression softened in compassion.  _Fake_ compassion, it seemed to Steve.  “I know you feel that way.  And I know genetically she’s your daughter.  It’s only natural to want to protect her.  But you know we don’t mean her any harm.  We want what’s best for her, what’s best for you–”

“You don’t know _anything_ about what’s best for her,” Steve responded tightly, “or what’s best for me.  I understand your concerns, but I can see where you’re going with this.  You are not taking my child from me.  No way.  Like we said before, if you want to do your tests, they need to be done _here_ under our supervision.”

“You’re letting your emotions cloud your judgment,” Blake accused.  That farce of compassion was gone as quickly as it had come.  “I have been exploring the legal options, Captain.  You think there aren’t any, but there are.  If I can prove she’s a reasonable threat–”

Tony’s eyes flashed in warning.  “You have got to be kidding me.  Leave.  Don’t let the door hit you on the ass on the way out.”

“That’s kidnapping,” Steve said, aghast and surprised to all get-out that this jerk would even _consider_ this.  He didn’t know what Blake hoped to achieve.  He stood no chance of taking Sarah forcefully – no chance in hell – and as far as intimidating Steve went?  That was more attainable, but it was going to take a lot more than some half-baked threat.  “It’s against the law.”

“These are unprecedented circumstances.  Her custody situation is not clear.”

The situation was degrading again, and this time Tony was not the voice of reason and patience he had been last time.  “So what?  Finders keepers?  That’s BS, even for SHIELD.  I know you guys like to think the law doesn’t apply to you, but it does.  Steve’s right.  It’s kidnapping if you take that baby, which we’ll never let you do, by the way.”

Blake looked downright _smug._   “She’s here illegally.  You know that, don’t you?”

“What are you talking about?” Tony spat.

“She is in this country _illegally_.  She’s not an American citizen.”

“The hell she isn’t,” Tony snapped.

Blake was undaunted.  “She wasn’t born on US soil.”

“That’s not all you need,” Tony said.  “And we can take care of the other legal mumbo-jumbo.  Her father’s a US citizen, so that makes her one.”

“With what birth certificate?   With what proof of parentage that you’re willing to make public?  And regardless, that ‘legal mumbo-jumbo’ as you put it takes time, weeks and maybe months.  I know you have deep pockets, Stark, but there’s only so much you can do to grease the wheels of bureaucracy.”  Steve couldn’t help the cold wave of fear that washed over him.  He knew Blake was just trying to get to him, trying to intimidate him and coerce him and flat out blackmail him into cooperation, and he was shocked that it was working.  What if the SHIELD agent was right?  Sarah wasn’t a US citizen.  She had no birth certificate, no proof of parentage.  Proving he was her father would expose secrets SHIELD (and probably Steve himself) didn’t want exposed.  All of that might mean Steve couldn’t just _keep_ her, even if he was her father.  And her mother…  They still had no idea who she was, where she was, or if she was even alive.  Tony had poured over the data from the lab where Sarah had been found, but there’d been nothing useful.  And if SHIELD had extracted more information from the scientists they’d captured, they hadn’t shared it with the Avengers.  He wasn’t sure where that left him, but he was sadly certain that nothing would be as clear-cut and easy as he’d foolishly hoped.

Tony was actually stunned into silence.  For the moment, anyway.  Blake shook his head.  “Gentlemen, I don’t want to go down these roads, but I will if I need to.  Director Fury _put me in charge._   This is my assignment, and I will see it completed.  Now we need imaging done.  I have no objections to either of you accompanying her, if you want that.”

Anger burst over Steve at being treated this way, but even still, he wasn’t sure continuing this confrontation would gain him anything.  He held tighter to Sarah, struck for the first time that maybe he didn’t have this right he thought he did, that this could be illegal, that maybe Blake was right and Sarah belonged some place where…  If something went wrong and she got sick, she should be some place where she could receive emergency medical care instantly, surrounded by doctors and researchers and experts…“You’ve done enough for her, Captain.  Let us take it from here.  We can–”

“What’s going on?”  The new voice from the doors to the lab drew everyone’s attention.  It was Bruce, and he was appraising the situation with a quizzical but bothered look on his face.  Suspicion shone in his eyes.

“Agent Blake and his posse were just leaving,” Tony said tensely, silently challenging Blake to disobey him and see what would happen if he did.  Now the inventor had planted himself between Steve and Blake, like he was guarding Sarah as well.  “They got what they came for.”

Blake lost his patience, and once again the gentility disappeared from his voice.  “We came for the baby, Doctor Banner.”

“At least now you’re dispensing with all the BS and just flat-out admitting it,” Tony said.  “Get out.  I mean it.  We’re done with SHIELD.”

“You think Director Fury will side with you?” Blake retorted.

“I think if he wants the Avengers to still take his calls, he will,” Tony said.  “You’re not the only one who can make threats.  Fury already knows what he stands to lose.  Something tells me my threat is worth a bit more than yours.”  He stepped closer, physically pushing Blake back.  Steve grimaced, praying this didn’t dissolve into an all-out brawl.  “So back off.”

Blake’s eyes flashed.  “Pushing me?  Real mature, Stark.”

“You’re the one making this get physical.  That’s incredibly, _monumentally_ stupid, by the way.  You have a few pencil-necked geeks on your side.  I have Captain America and the Hulk.  Something tells me I’d win.”

“Alright, enough,” Steve said.  He got Sarah’s pacifier back in her mouth and grabbed her clothes from the table.  “We’re leaving.”

Blake wasn’t about to be beat.  “Captain,” he said, trying to get around Tony, “she belongs in a lab.  You know it.”

“Is that where I belong then?” Steve coolly asked.  That was where Colonel Phillips and SSR had wanted to put him after Project: Rebirth.  Stuck in a lab, being tested and validated when he could have been out doing some good.  The war certainly wouldn’t have ended as it had if he’d been locked away as a sample in some research study.  If he’d agreed to Phillips’ orders, _nothing_ would have gone as it had.

Blake looked a tad bit like he’d been caught in something.  “That’s where… some of the higher members of SHIELD and the Council wanted you, yes.  You were supposed to be sent to the Sandbox for testing and observation after they found you, but Director Fury thought you might serve a better purpose in the Avengers Initiative.”

“And a good thing for that,” Tony remarked sarcastically, more than a little disgusted with what he was hearing.  For his own part, Steve couldn’t quite believe Blake was admitting this.  “You needed an alien invasion stopped.  And now SHIELD wants the world’s best soldier fighting for its cause.  He can’t do that from inside a box, can he.”

Steve swallowed uncomfortably.  The thought that he could have been trapped in this Sandbox place had it not been for Fury was disturbing, to say the least.  Was this what SHIELD always had been?  Ready to commit acts of immorality at best or evil at worst to get what it wanted?  Ready to do anything and everything to see its objectives fulfilled?  Had he just never seen it?  “I already told you that if you want samples from me, I would be willing to provide them.”

“Samples from you don’t interest us,” Blake said.  He paused, like he was remembering to be polite.  “But thank you.”

“Why not?”

Blake faltered.  He shifted his weight and his gaze slightly.  His inability to come up with an answer wasn’t well masked.

“Because you’re not what he really wants, Steve,” Tony declared.

Blake smoldered.  “And what’s that, Mr. Stark, since you seem to know everything?”

“Thanks for acknowledging that.  You want to recreate the serum yourselves, and don’t try to deny it.”  Steve felt something inside him twist tighter yet, a vise squeezing his heart, and he held firmer to Sarah.  Tony’s eyes were hard, and his voice was filled with vitriol.  “You know you can’t get it out of Steve.  You’ve tried as best you could.  And now somebody stole your precious samples and did what you failed to do, and you’ve got an opportunity to get at the results and it just kills you that this little inconvenience of the Cap being her father is in your way.”

“That’s nonsense.  You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Blake said angrily.

Tony wasn’t put off.  “Nonsense, huh.  Then walk out and let it go.  I feel like a broken record, but I guess I need to keep saying it.  You are _not_ taking that baby away from her father.”

Blake’s eyes narrowed, like he realized he needed to change his approach.  His new angle wasn’t any better than the old one.  “Fine.  Mr. Stark is right, Captain Rogers.  We can’t extract Erskine’s formula from you.  We have tried.  I have had research teams working on this since they found you two years ago, and they’ve gotten nowhere.”

Steve closed his eyes and looked away, struggling to stay calm.  He probably shouldn’t have been surprised.  People had been struggling for seventy years to recreate the serum that had produced the world’s one and only super soldier.  Had he actually thought that when they found him they would just let that go?  The technology hadn’t been available during his time to produce the serum again.  Now, with the leaps and bounds humanity had made in the fields of genetics and biochemistry, with technological advances and super computers…  Of course they would try.  They took samples from him _to_ try.  And Tony was right.  Someone else had succeeded.

Blake regarded him with a feverish look, coming closer again and dropping his tone.  “We have an opportunity here to really study the serum.  Maybe even find a way to extract it and replicate it.  _Yes_ , the way she came into the world was illegal and immoral, but she’s here now.  Why not make the best of it?  Why not use this to our advantage?  You put your life on the line for the world’s safety so often, Captain, that it would be foolish not to try to create more soldiers capable of doing what you can do.”

“Don’t,” Steve said tersely.  Sarah was falling asleep in his arms despite the noise of the argument, and he kept her tight to him, praying she never came to know what her life was worth to SHIELD.  “Don’t even try that.  I’m not looking for sympathy or relief.  And, frankly, I don’t trust SHIELD with the serum, even if you could find a way to get it from her.  Or from me.  Not anymore.”

Blake’s expression hardened again.  “Captain, please, _think_ about this.  You don’t have to give her up necessarily.  But you need to let us take her and do what we can to figure out how they replicated the serum in her body.  You need to let us do that.”

“No.”

“Captain–”

“He said _no._   You must be deaf,” Tony said angrily, “or unbelievably stupid.  I’m betting on the latter.”

“Enough, Mr. Stark.  This doesn’t concern you.”

“Oh, yes it does.  Steve’s my friend and my captain, and I am not going to sit here and let you bully him into something he doesn’t want.”

“This child could hold the key to unlocking every mystery about Erskine’s original research!  Doesn’t that mean anything to you people?  What she holds in her DNA is–”

“Nothing.”

The soft declaration seemingly came from nowhere.  But it hadn’t come from nowhere.  It had come from Bruce.  Steve had almost forgotten the other man was there during the heat of the debate.  He was standing next the examination table, watching the exchange with a cool expression on his face.  His eyes flicked to Steve, not long enough for Steve to read his expression.  “She has _nothing_ in her DNA.  At least nothing of the serum.”

The room was completely silent.  _Completely silent._   Even the thundering pulse of Steve’s heart in his ears seemed to stop for a moment.  Nobody moved.  Nobody spoke.  Glances were shared, questioning, shocked, doubtful.  Bruce walked around the examination table.  “I ran the analysis twice to be certain.  Every marker for the serum I’ve identified in Captain Rogers’ DNA is absent from Sarah’s.  Her DNA is normal in every sense of the word.  She doesn’t have the serum.”

Blake looked astounded.  “You’re _absolutely_ sure, Doctor Banner?” he asked, like he hadn’t understood.  Or couldn’t wrap his mind around it.  Or both.

Bruce nodded firmly.  “Yes.  She doesn’t have it.”

And just like that, it was over.  Blake looked away, the muscles of his jaw working as he clenched his teeth together.  He was rigid, probably with anger and disappointment, and he was entirely too still for a moment as he digested the news.  He released a slow breath.  “Then we’re finished here.”  He nodded to his team, and they walked out.  He shook his head a final time, glancing around at the Avengers before settling his unhappy gaze on Sarah in Steve’s arms.  What he didn’t say was poised on his tongue.  _What a waste._

“I’ll send you the data, Agent,” Bruce called as Blake exited the lab.  “Sorry to be the bearer of bad news.”  Blake waved him off dismissively as he disappeared down the corridor outside with a rapid, frustrated stride.

“JARVIS, make sure they get the heck off my property,” Tony commanded once the lab doors were securely shut again.

“With pleasure, sir,” the AI responded.

Tony exhaled slowly, walking over to Bruce and clasping him on the shoulder.  He smiled.  “Good move.  Don’t know why I didn’t think of it myself.  Nothing like pulling the candy away from the kids.  You’re all kinds of awesome, Bruce.”

Bruce smiled weakly, averting his eyes nervously to his feet for a moment before regaining his courage.  “Yeah, well, unfortunately, it wasn’t just a move.”  He turned back to Steve, his eyes filled with unspoken regret.  “She really doesn’t have the serum.  Not even a trace of it.”  He shook his head.  “Sorry.”

Steve didn’t know what to say.  How to feel.  What to _think_.  He looked down at Sarah, her warm little body cocooned in the purple blanket, her eyes shut as she sucked on her pacifier.  Her one tiny hand was curled around the pink plastic in her mouth, and the other was tight in his shirt.  Peaceful.  Content.  Content because he was her father, and he was holding her and keeping her warm and safe.  Something swelled inside him so much that it _hurt_.  “What are you apologizing for?” he asked hoarsely.  His voice cracked.  “She’s healthy, right?”

“Of course she is,” Bruce immediately answered.

“Then it’s fine.  Isn’t it?”

_It’s fine._

* * *

Bruce went on to explain more.  Showed them data in detail.  Ran through the results with all the precision and detachment of an expert.  Displayed graphical representations of Steve’s DNA on one side of his computer screen and Sarah’s on the other, pointing out the vast similarities but the key differences.  Every marker for the serum Bruce had discovered in his years of studying it was absent from Sarah’s genes.  Bruce claimed that that didn’t mean for sure that she would inherent none of Steve’s powers, but it didn’t seem likely.  She wouldn’t have his peak strength, speed, and agility.  She wouldn’t have his endurance, his resilience.  She wouldn’t be able to learn as quickly as he did or heal as fast and as completely.  She was, for lack of a better term, a normal human.  There was a chance things could manifest themselves over time, Bruce supposed; they didn’t understand the genetic underpinnings of the serum very well, so he couldn’t rule out that possibility.  But he set an arm across Steve’s shoulders with a sad expression and apologized more.

“It’s fine,” Steve said again.  “At least this way she’s safer.”  And she was.  Blake had immediately lost interest in her without the serum.  All the other crazy scientists and evil villains and madmen in the world would, too, if they ever learned about her.  She was a scientific failure.  It didn’t feel good or right to label her that way, so Steve immediately banished the thought.

Bruce continued, discussing how he’d looked over Sarah’s DNA carefully for all known abnormalities.  He’d found none.  He’d also checked for any instabilities that could have resulted from the fact she was genetically engineered.  Again, there was nothing.  And, again, Bruce couldn’t promise that there never would be anything.  There was no way to be certain that something wouldn’t develop, or that he’d missed something during his research now.  He also still couldn’t promise that she hadn’t inherited Steve’s numerous childhood, pre-serum health issues.  But, like Tony had, he reminded Steve that they had ways to treat asthma and a poor immune system and a weak heart now that would ensure a long, happy, and healthy life.  Hearing that and that Sarah was okay was enough to ease Steve’s mind a little.

But he still didn’t feel right about any of it.  The rest of the day went on in a blur.  At some point Pepper came back from a meeting and offered to take Sarah for a while so he could relax.  This was something she’d been doing every day that week, and Steve had taken her up on it before.  Today it didn’t feel right.  Instead he holed up in his suite, taking care of Sarah, finishing off his reports and work while she slept, playing with her and talking with her while he was awake.  She sat with him on the couch in his den, watching an old movie or two.  She watched him exercise a little; normally he’d go down to the gym, but he wasn’t in the mood for company and there was plenty of room in his suite to manage to work up a good sweat.  Briefly he considered contacting Fury and confronting him with what he’d learned from Blake about SHIELD’s attempt to recreate the serum without his knowledge, but he decided not to.  It was too tender an issue, too emotional right now, and he didn’t know what he would do if he learned Fury had known about it or even ordered it.  How many lies would it take before Steve gave up on SHIELD entirely?  He felt like his eyes had been opened this last week, and now they couldn’t be closed again.  He couldn’t trust SHIELD again, at least never like he had.

Thor stopped by with dinner.  He was worried, but he didn’t press anything, handing Steve a plate filled with pasta and a glass of milk.  The demigod offered to stay with him or take the baby so he could eat in peace, and while the offer was tempting, Steve turned it down with a sad smile.  Thor nodded, not pleased with his choice but respecting him far too much to badger him about it, instead reminding Steve that he was there should he feel the need to unburden himself and bidding him goodnight.

Steve ate while Sarah cooed at him from her little seat, reaching a little for the toys attached to an arm that ran over it.  She’d been doing that more and more just in the last day or so.  He watched her, not thinking really, sinking deeply into the numbness that had invaded him since Bruce’s announcement earlier that day.  She kicked her little socks off (infant socks were completely useless, he was finding) as she worked her legs against the seat.  He set his fork down and reached for them, pushing them back on her little feet.  She kicked them off again almost instantly.  “You sure are worked up,” he commented, trying to get them on for a third time.  Her legs were going so fast that he just gave up.  “Alright.  Suit yourself.  Don’t complain to me when your toes are cold.”  She cried.  “I said don’t complain.”  She cried louder.  He glanced at the clock even though he knew what she wanted.  His internal sense of time kept him keyed to her schedule.  “You can wait a minute, can’t ya, baby girl?  Then I’ll get you ready for bed.”  A rather piercing wail indicated that waiting was not an option.  Steve let her fuss a moment more, inexplicably tired and frustrated and feeling pretty fantastically alone.  Then he gave up on eating.  Wordlessly, he lifted Sarah out of the seat.  He bathed her, diapered her, dressed her.  Got her bottle ready.  He was just going through the motions, like he was in some sort of stupor and not caring overly much to get out of it.  Pretty soon she was passed out in his arms, sucking on the remains of her bottle just to suck, and he was lost in useless thoughts and staring out the windows of the nursery at the twinkling New York skyline.  It took him a long time before he moved.

Once she was in her crib, warm and swaddled and peacefully slumbering, he headed out into the living area of his suite.  “Geez,” he whispered, his heart leaping in his chest at finding Tony sitting on his couch.  “You startled me.”

“Wow, that’s a first,” Tony commented.

Steve looked away, embarrassed at his reaction.  It really was a first.  With his enhanced senses, it was almost impossible for anyone to sneak up on him or startle him like that.  “Got a lot on my mind,” he said by way of an excuse.  Tony just watched him expectedly.  Obviously he’d come to talk.  Steve was not in the mood.  He walked past Tony, heading for his bedroom.  “I’m beat.  Whatever you want, can it wait until tomorrow?”

“Steve.”

“What?”

Tony stood from the couch.  He was unusually solemn and still.  “The baby doesn’t have the serum.”

Steve rubbed his forehead, trying to be patient.  He was _really_ not in the mood.  “Yeah, I was there, Tony.  I heard Bruce when he said it.”

“So you don’t have to do this.”  In retrospect, Steve should have been prepared for this.  He should have been, but he wasn’t.  “Blake is a class-A jerk, but he was right about one thing.  You’ve done more for her than anyone else would have in your situation.  And you’re letting your emotions cloud your judgment.”

“So what if I am?” Steve retorted.

“So what if you…  Come on.  Think about what you’re saying.  Think about what you’re doing.”  Tony came closer.  There wasn’t a hint of anger in his voice or on his face.  There was only concern and a whole lot of it.  “Look, I meant what I said about supporting you.  And I’m never _ever_ going to push you out or anything like that.  Or make you regret anything or feel bad about your choices or _whatever_.  None of us will.  But I think you need someone to remind you that you don’t need to do this.”

“Tony, please…  Not now.”

“You don’t.  When we didn’t know what she was and what all of this could lead to, it made sense, bringing her to be here with us.  And if she had the serum, it made sense keeping her because you were right, what you said back on the helicarrier.  She’d never be safe anywhere else except with us.  But that’s not the case.  She’s a normal kid, with normal DNA.  And she could have a chance at a normal life.”

Steve gritted his teeth.  These same thoughts had been lurking in the back of his mind beneath the apathy.  Some part of him was disappointed Sarah didn’t have the serum and not just because it would have been something they shared (something that, when he really thought about it, would have made him less unique and alone in life).  He was afraid that a huge chunk of his reasoning for keeping her had just had its foundation yanked out from under it.  He was afraid that Tony was _right_.  Her life with him, whatever it turned out to be, could never be “normal”.  Her father was an Avenger.  Her father was Captain America.  When it had been her biology potentially endangering her, his choice to take her home had been one thing.  But now her relationship with him would put her at risk, and that was something else entirely.

And all those other worries…  There were _so many_ of them.  What would happen when she got old enough to realize who he was and what he did?  What would her life be like?  Would she be terrified every time he left her behind to lead the team into battle?  Who would take her, _could_ take her, on a moment’s notice like that?  Would she resent him for putting his life at risk?  How could he balance being Captain America with being her father?  Would school be safe for her?  Would _any place_ be safe for her?  What would her friends say?  Could she have friends, knowing the life he led?  Would he outlive her?  The serum was causing him to age more slowly; that was a fact Bruce had discovered some months ago.  Could he deal with that?  Could she?

Did he _really_ know what was best for her?  Or for himself?

Tony went on, of course.  A small, bitter part of Steve hated him for it.  “It’s not too late to give her away.  We can find her parents, wonderful, loving, _awesome_ parents.  We can do it all in secrecy.  That nonsense Blake kept spewing about her not being an American citizen and not being legitimate…  I can fix that.”

“Tony…”

“I can.  I have lawyers in my back pocket.  We can _fix_ anything and make it right for a couple somewhere to take her.  Or a family.  Whatever you want.  Whoever you want.  Real parents.  Maybe even real brothers or sisters.  SHIELD never even has to know.  No one has to know.  And no one has to know that she’s yours, Steve.  I promise you.”

“Tony, please, not now.”

“That way you don’t have to give up anything.  The team can be what it was.  You can be what you are.  You can still be our captain.  Everything can go back the way it was.  And you don’t have to feel guilty, because you’re doing what’s right by her.  Giving her a normal life.”

“ _Please_ ,” he whispered.  Begged.  “I can’t do this right now.”

Tony wasn’t heartless.  Far from it.  He saw the tattered expression on Steve’s face, the pain and worry in his eyes.  “Just…  C’mere.”  He grabbed Steve and pulled him into a much needed hug.  Steve stiffly resisted a moment; this sort of stuff wasn’t what they did.  And it was about as far from the last hug they’d shared as possible.  That had been filled with relief and hope.  This was weak and suffering with uncertainty.  “You still know you’re not alone in this, right?”

Steve finally relaxed into Tony’s embrace.  “I know.”

“Just think about it, okay?”

“Okay.”

Tony pulled away, a tad embarrassed himself at the contact and maybe at saying what he had.  He laid his hand tenderly on Steve’s back to cover it.  “Get some sleep, Cap.  You look like you need it.  Tomorrow’s another day, right?”

“Yeah.”

Tony walked out of his suite after saying goodnight, leaving Steve standing there, alone again.  He lingered longer than he should have, weary and worn, before continuing on to his room.  He stripped off his jeans and his shirt and got ready for bed.  He climbed under his comforter and closed his eyes and tried his hardest not to think.  And when he couldn’t sleep, he wandered back to the nursery.  He knew he shouldn’t, but he couldn’t help himself.  He picked Sarah up out of her crib and took her to the glider.  Then he sat in the moonlight, her cheek against his bare chest and her blanket over them both, and closed his eyes again.  He rocked and dozed and breathed deeply of her and tried to be as close to her as he possibly could because in his heart there was a distance between them that hadn’t been there before.

And it scared him.


	8. Chapter 8

Pretty soon it was the end of October.  Then it was November.  And then Thanksgiving was right around the corner.  It came on quickly.  One day Steve woke up, and the breeze was chilly and the sun was setting earlier and the leaves were falling in Central Park in a brilliant blaze of oranges, reds, and yellows that reminded him of childhood.  His sense of the world beyond the Tower was somewhat disjointed now, and that probably contributed to this feeling that things had rapidly changed.  He hadn’t been out much.  He hadn’t _done_ much, period, other than take care of the baby.  There were many, many parts of being Sarah’s father that he loved.  Their relationship was starting to feel like a tangible thing to him, a bond between them was nurtured by love and dependence.  It pulled him to her and her to him.  And he was feeling much more relaxed about it all, about diapers and bottles and onesies and midnight feedings.  After more than a month, he had this down pat, and his confidence improved so much that he hardly worried about what he was doing anymore.

On a small scale, anyway.  He still worried plenty about the big stuff.

Regardless, he loved the quiet mornings in his suite with her.  He loved watching her watch him.  He loved the way she cooed at him, the way she responded to his voice, and he marveled at how quickly she was learning to grab things and hold her head up and move with more coordination.  He loved the way she snuggled into him, the way she cried for him.  The way she _smiled_ at him (the first one of those had been an awesome experience he wouldn’t have traded for the world).  The craziness and the mess and midnight feedings weren’t so bad now.  He’d gotten used to her schedule, to living on the sleep he was getting (which was admittedly made much easier by the serum).  More than a month into Sarah’s impromptu arrival in his life, he was feeling calm about it.  In control.  At least, most of the time.

But, honestly, he was tired and lonely.  She was company, but she wasn’t at the same time.  Not the sort to keep him grounded, to _talk_ to, really.  Tony was around, but he was most often embroiled in some invention or another, spending long hours in his workshops when he wasn’t actively trying to hide from Pepper and his responsibilities with Stark Industries.  Bruce was with him most of the time, talking and doing science, and the couple of occasions Steve had brought Sarah down to their labs they’d been so engrossed in their work and bouncing their ideas off each other that he’d felt like a third wheel of sorts, forgotten in the conversation and uncomfortable.  Clint came back from his mission and spent two days sleeping.  Then he’d gone to DC, summoned by Hill for some matter or another.  Natasha had gone with him, but Steve thought that was just an excuse to be away.  She was a ghost around the Tower, sneaking in and out when no one was around, flitting from room to room like a shadow, avoiding all team and group gatherings like the plague.  Only JARVIS had seen her, and the AI was paltry with details about where she was and what she was doing.  Steve had tried to work up the courage once or twice to go and try to talk to her, to figure out what was bothering her so much (well, _what_ was obvious.  _Why_ was not).  However, every time he mustered up his composure, JARVIS told him Natasha was either gone or in her suite alone, and he couldn’t make himself disturb her.  Maybe that was cowardly, but he knew her behavior was his fault, and addressing that wasn’t going to be easy for either of them.

Thor was there, though.  Like his second six-foot shadow, Thor was often at his side.  The demigod meant well, and Steve was truly grateful for his support, but Thor was… well, Thor.  He didn’t know much about this world (even less than Steve did), and his loud, blunt approach to everything was a little wearing.  His heart was in the right place; Steve had never known someone as giving and accepting as Thor was.  But he saw everything so simply when it clearly was not.  By now the entire team and Pepper knew Sarah didn’t have the super soldier serum, even though no one had mentioned it again (at least in Steve’s presence).  Except for Thor, of course.  And Thor had predictably brushed it off, which had irked Steve because it was more important than the demigod seemed to realize.  And Thor had detected that Steve was frustrated and unhappy with being cut out of the loop of life beyond the Tower.  He instantly suggested Steve contact SHIELD and request to be assigned work, which Steve immediately proclaimed he couldn’t do.  It wasn’t just because he couldn’t do what he had been doing for SHIELD now that he had Sarah.  He didn’t trust SHIELD like he had, either.  And somehow going back to Fury with even the _slightest_ interest in running a mission or handling an op (or even doing desk work) seemed akin to admitting he was wrong about how he was handling this.  That he’d made some sort of mistake.  Maybe that was his ego talking, but it was how he felt.

So he and Thor hung out.  A lot.  Being with Thor all the time made his isolation more… _isolating_ , if that was the way to put it, because Thor was about as connected to the outside world as he was.  Thor didn’t associate with SHIELD.  He had no links to modern society.  Aside from Jane, Jane’s assistant (a loud, sassy girl named Darcy who frankly scared Steve a little), and his work with the Avengers, Thor looked, felt, and acted like he’d just landed on earth from an alien world (which wasn’t too far from the truth).  And he was entirely content with it.  The two of them worked out together, watched movies together, read and talked together, constantly taking Sarah with them everywhere in the Tower.  He’d spent more time with Thor in the last few weeks than he had in the last two years.  Clint had been teaching Thor how to play some game called “Mario Kart”, and Thor enjoyed it so much that he showed Steve.  Steve was hopeless at it (apparently battle-honed reflexes and eye-hand coordination did not translate well to the world of virtual cartoon-character racing – who knew?), but it passed the time.  And Thor was always eager to take care of Sarah.  He entertained her, regaling long stories of Asgardian folklore and legend to her like she could understand the importance of his grandiose tales.  She enjoyed his antics, anyway, watching intently as he mimed and gesticulated and smiled.  Thor absolutely adored the baby.  Steve hadn’t expected that, so even when he wanted interaction with the other members of the team who still had some link to life as it had been, he found he couldn’t begrudge Thor much for being there.

And, of course, Thor’s take on his situation was simplistic.  Steve hadn’t made any big decisions.  He’d taken Tony’s advice and thought about it.  In fact, that was all he had been doing.  Thinking and mulling it over and turning it around in his head.  Soul-searching and wool-gathering and the like, all to no avail.  He still didn’t know what to do.  Give her away for a chance at a normal life.  Keep her for a life with her real father.  He knew he was making it worse for himself, harder and harder, by dragging this out, but he couldn’t help it.  It was disconcerting, being so rudderless, so unsure of himself.  It was not like him at all.  He knew it and so did everyone else.  Eventually he got so sick and frustrated with himself that he gave up trying to figure it out and decided not to worry about it anymore.  Some part of him bitterly wondered if he just waited long enough the decision would be made for him.  While the others (on the occasions he did see them) treated the problem by unceremoniously ignoring it, Thor was brazen and very forward with his own opinions.  Steve hadn’t wanted to talk about it, hadn’t wanted to burden his friend (but mostly just hadn’t wanted to acknowledge the problem like if he didn’t, it would go away).  Thor’s position was very clear: Steve should do what he wanted.  Moreover, it was his belief that, deep down, Steve already _knew_ what he wanted and was just over-thinking a clear-cut matter.  “Do what is in your heart,” the demigod advised over lunch one day.  “The consequences are irrelevant.”

“How can it be that simple?  It’s not,” Steve said, watching Sarah sleep peacefully in Thor’s arms.  “I gotta do what’s best for her.”

“And what is that?” Thor asked.

Steve piled both their sandwiches high before stepping away from the island in the kitchen and offering Thor his plate.  “That’s the whole point, isn’t it?  If I knew the answer to that–”

“There is no answer to that,” Thor declared, shifting Sarah slightly so that he could eat one-handed.  He turned momentarily pensive and tipped his head, like he was conceding something to himself.  “Well, perhaps there is, but there is no way a mere mortal could know it.”

“Comforting,” Steve grumbled, taking a bite of his sandwich.

Thor chewed appreciatively.  “It should be comforting,” he said.  “It means that whatever you choose, so long as you choose with your heart, it will be the best answer.  You, Steve, put too much stock in things being right or wrong.  Sometimes there is no right or wrong.  There is simply what you want to do and what you are willing to sacrifice to do it.”

“You think I don’t know that?”

“I think you over-complicate matters.  If you wish to keep her and raise her as your daughter, then do it.  If you wish to give her to someone else, then do that, though I cannot say that will not sadden me.  I have grown rather fond of her.”  Thor looked down on Sarah with a soft smile on his face, her tiny head cupped by his huge hand.  Steve felt something ache inside, and not just at the sorrow he heard in Thor’s voice.  “I know what it is you fear.  You fear making the wrong decision, choosing the wrong path.  Were I in your place, I would share this fear.  But it is irrational.  And perhaps it is best defeated, like most things, by facing it head-on with bravery and determination.”

Simple enough.  So Steve decided to face it head-on with bravery and determination.

He was going to go out with Sarah.

He was so sick of being cooped up all the time that this was the first thing that came to his head.  It wasn’t announcing to the world that he had a daughter now.  He wasn’t quite that bold.  He dressed in khakis and a gray t-shirt under a maroon button down and a brown bomber jacket.  He put on his Dodgers cap.  Bruce had given him a pair of glasses (sunglasses, at least) a few months back when he’d had a particularly rough time with avoiding the media.  While Captain America couldn’t go anywhere without attracting attention, Steve Rogers wasn’t as recognizable without the shield and the uniform.  Still, he didn’t want to take any chances.  He appraised himself in the mirror in his room and decided he looked normal enough.

Pepper had come back from Malibu that morning after a week-long trip, and she’d vehemently sworn off any more work and planned a day of relaxing.  When she’d heard that Steve was intending to go walking with the baby, she dressed Sarah in something warm, a purple fleece outfit with a hat and a hood on top of it.  She put her in one of the many strollers they had and tucked a blanket around her on top of that.  Now she was waiting for Steve in the living room of the common floor.  Tony was with her.  Neither of them looked terribly pleased.  “You sure you want to be alone?” Pepper asked.  “I can go with you.  It’s no problem.”

“It’s fine, Pepper,” Steve said.  “I think I need to do this myself.”

Pepper didn’t look convinced.  “Where are you going?”

Steve hadn’t thought about it really.  Just the act of going out in public with the baby seemed daunting enough.  Thankfully, Tony chimed in.  “He’s going down three blocks to the coffee shop there and getting me coffee.”

“I am?” Steve asked in stupefaction.  Tony had quite a few expensive coffee machines located in the Tower, nearly one on every floor, and the coffee with which he and Pepper stocked the cabinets was much better than anything they could get in a shop.

“Trust me, Cap,” Tony said with a firm nod and a knowing look.  “You do much better when you have a mission to accomplish.  You want something, Pep?”

Pepper still looked a little flabbergasted and quite concerned, so she only dumbly shook her head.  Steve was reminded of Tony’s analogy from the day Sarah had come into his life, about Pepper caring about him like a big sister would.  He’d never had a sister (or any siblings for that matter), but he knew the look on her face because he’d seen it on Bucky’s often enough in their youth.  Worry tinged with a slightly desperate need to protect him from everything, including his own stupidity.  “Call Happy, Tony.  Get him to drive him.”

“What are you so afraid of?” Tony asked.  “He’s Captain America.  You know, bravely faced down hordes of Nazis and single-handedly won World War II.”

“Tony, I didn’t–”

“Yes, he _is_ Captain America.  And if someone realizes that…  Well, the press got off my back, but you know they’re still sniffing around outside.”  Steve hadn’t thought about that, either.  The media had given up on Pepper’s supposed pregnancy weeks ago when there’d been no new information on which to feed.  She’d elected to just ignore the rumors and gossip, and when there was no additional baby gear delivered to the Tower, no further sightings of her supposed baby bump, and no statement (formal or informal) to the effect that the conjecture was true, the reporters had lost interest.  But Pepper was right: that didn’t mean they were gone necessarily.  “At least have Happy get you from the garage out to the street somewhere.  They see you come out of the Tower with her and no amount of tap-dancing is going to undo the damage.”

Pepper was right, and Steve took her advice.  She went with him down to the garage, where Happy was waiting with one of Tony’s many cars.  “You don’t have to do this, Steve,” she reminded him softly as they secured Sarah in a car seat.  “You don’t have anything to prove to anyone.”

“Yes, I do,” he corrected just as quietly.  “I need to prove this to myself.  I can’t spend the rest of my life stuck inside.”

“Steve–”

“I’m just getting the coffee and coming back.  No one will see me.”  He sighed, draping Sarah’s blanket over her in the car seat.  “And if they do…”  He offered up a helpless smile.  “We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it.”

She still wasn’t convinced, but she let him go with a wince and a nod and a kiss on his cheek.  Steve sighed and climbed into the passenger seat of the car.  Happy stared at him.  “Ready?”

 _No._   “Yep.”

They pulled out of the garage.  If the press was there, it wasn’t obvious.  Happy drove down 42nd Avenue for a stretch, much longer than Steve anticipated.  He said, “Where are you going?  I can walk.”

“Driving around a little, you know,” Happy responded, leaning back in the leather seat.  He glanced over at Steve.  “I used to do this for Mr. Stark all the time when the media was on him.  Drive him around in circles for a bit.  Shake any tails.  Give the reporters a hard time.”  Steve smiled.  It was afternoon, rush hour, so the traffic was pretty thick.  He supposed he could have planned this better.  They pulled up to another light, Happy flipping on his blinker to push over to the right lane and circle around the Tower.  The silence that followed was a tad awkward.  Steve didn’t know Happy all that well, other than the fact he’d worked for Tony for years and that Tony considered him to be indispensably loyal.  Happy wasn’t exactly Tony’s driver anymore; he was something like the head of Stark Industries’ security and Pepper’s bodyguard.  That didn’t make Steve any more comfortable.  He didn’t know what to say.  Sarah cried a little, and he craned around to look at her, but with the car seat situated in reverse behind his seat, he really couldn’t see her.  Happy sighed a little, breaking the awkward quiet.  “You know, for what it’s worth, Cap, you’re doing the right thing.”

Steve glanced at Happy.  “What’s that?”

“Finding her a home.”

Steve’s heart clenched.  He paled, and his eyes widened.  “What?”

Happy looked like he’d been caught red-handed.  He actually blushed and looked away.  “Oh, well, you…  Oh, man.”

“Where did you hear that?”

Happy was increasingly uncomfortable and fidgety.  “I just – look, Mr. Stark’s been…  You know, he and Miss Potts…  Um.  Well, I thought you asked him to.”

Steve was too shocked to feel anything for a moment.  Then the betrayal came, icy and uncomfortable.  And anger, right on its coattails.  Tony had gone ahead and made plans to…  _Tony wouldn’t do that._   But Steve wasn’t sure.  He sat in an alarmed, cold stupor for a second, staring darkly out the car window.  Who was Tony to make this decision for him?  What sort of friend did that?  All the times Tony had told him he had his support…  Was all of that a lie?

“Here’s fine,” Steve suddenly snapped.  He hadn’t even thought about speaking.  The words were just out, tense and ringing of how desperate he suddenly was to be alone.

Happy glanced at him out of the corner of his eye.  He knew he’d made a mistake, a big one, and he seemed like he wanted to say something to fix it.  But he clearly didn’t know what.  “You sure?  I can take you back, Cap, or anywhere you want to go.  Let me take you back.”

“No, this is fine,” Steve said more forcefully than he meant to, but seriously, did no one trust him to make his own choices?  He was Captain America, for crying out.  He’d fought in the largest, bloodiest war in human history.  He ran stealth ops for SHIELD and led the Avengers.  He’d done some hard-core things, taken on some truly terrifying and despicable evil.  He could damn well take care of himself!

He tried not to be angry, or at least not to show it much, as Happy pulled up to the sidewalk.  He got out, got the stroller out of the car and the diaper bag (God, this felt weird), and pulled the baby out of the car seat.  He was moving automatically, adjusting straps and hats and blankets, because his mind was a million miles away.  And then he was walking and not looking back.

He stayed out longer than he should have probably.  And Pepper and Tony were likely worried.  He couldn’t make himself care enough to go back.  Instead, he took his time wandering around the busy streets and thinking before getting the coffee.  It was rush hour and the holidays were coming, so the sidewalks were thick with a throng of people going about their business.  Nobody seemed to look twice his way.  Well, at least nobody suspicious and not at first.  At the coffee shop, he got all sorts of unwanted attention.  He’d had not one, not two, but _three_ young women all come up to him within the span of ten minutes, commenting on what a beautiful baby Sarah was, checking him out, trying to determine if he was married by seeing if he had a ring on his finger (and not being too subtle about it), and flirting with him when they discovered he didn’t.  More women had stared at him, not as bold as those that had come up to talk to him but no less persistent in their ogling.  Steve had been hit on since receiving the super soldier serum (more times than he cared to remember) but not like this.  It was like Sarah was a magnet, something women could use to strike up a conversation.  Boy did they ever try.  He’d been annoyed and flustered and embarrassed while he stood in line, trying to extricate himself from the conversations without being rude.  The barista had been a nice older lady, who’d cooed at Sarah and remarked repeatedly how sweet and precious she was.  Pretty soon all he wanted to do was get home and avoid everyone.  Nobody had figured out who he was (yet or that he saw), but he didn’t want to try his luck.

It was late into the afternoon by the time he was back at the Tower.  He felt worn out (though there was really no reason to be) and drained.  The entire walk back, Sarah had slumbered away, peacefully cocooned in her blankets, and he’d spent it darkly considering what he’d inadvertently learned from Happy and trying to figure out what to do about it.  He could ignore it, let it roll off and go on, but he didn’t want to.  For all his meandering physically and mentally, he decided pretty quickly once he was home that he wasn’t going to let Tony get away with this.  He found himself settling Sarah into her crib for an afternoon nap and telling JARVIS to let him know the instant she woke up.  Then he was off to find Tony.  “Where is he?” Steve demanded as he stepped into the elevator.

“In his workshop, sir,” JARVIS responded almost reluctantly, like he knew what had happened.

“Take me there,” Steve curtly demanded.

“Captain Rogers, if I may, I believe Mr. Stark was only–”

So JARVIS _did_ know.  Or the AI figured it out.  Either way, that meant he ( _it – it’s a machine, Steve_ ) had some prerequisite knowledge about what Tony was doing and hadn’t bothered to inform Steve.  “Just take me there.  Please.”

JARVIS didn’t bother arguing any further.  The elevator was moving, carrying him down a few floors.  The doors opened, and he stormed out, heading straight down the spacious hallway to the glass doors that led into the lab.  JARVIS immediately granted him entrance, and he burst inside to find Bruce and Tony in the middle of talking in front of the huge holographic terminal, the computer displaying a few three-dimensional representations of what looked like chemical compounds.  Tony immediately noticed him.  “Hey, Cap.  Finally.  Was starting to wonder if you got lost.  Where’s my coffee?  I’m jonesing for a fix over here.”

“Who the hell do you think you are?” Steve snapped, stepping right into Tony’s space.

Tony’s face fractured with dismay.  Normally that would be enough to ward Steve off, make him feel horrible for mistreating his friend, but he was too angry and hurt himself.  “We’ve been over this,” Tony said nervously after a beat.  “Billionaire, genius, playboy – well, ex-playboy philanthropist.  You having a senior moment?”

“You’ve been trying to find parents for Sarah,” Steve accused, struggling mightily to hang onto his temper.  Tony blanched and looked to Bruce.  “What gave you the right to do that?  Huh?  Who do you think you are?”

“And this is where I bow out,” Bruce said quietly, sliding off his stool and trying to make a beeline for the door.

“No, Bruce.  Stay,” Steve commanded.  Bruce slinked back down, seeming like he wanted to curl in on himself and hide under the lab bench.  “Did you know?”

Bruce went pale.  He darted horrified eyes between Steve and Tony, Tony who was making a pointed effort to not look at either of them.  Bruce heaved half a sigh.  “Steve–”

“Did you know?” Steve asked again, not about to be dissuaded.

Bruce winced, glancing at Tony again which didn’t serve to do anything other patronize and aggravate Steve further.  Before the captain could voice his irritation, Tony was explaining.  Or trying to.  “Yeah, okay, I started doing some research.  Pepper has a lawyer she trusts, and I was feeling around to see what it would take to set it up.  How we could go about it.”

Steve could hardly believe what he was hearing.  Despite his anger, a small part of him had most definitely hoped he’d jumped to the wrong conclusion or that Happy had been mistaken.  Hearing Tony admit the truth was devastating in a way he hadn’t imagined.  Tony had done _exactly_ what he’d feared.  That cold, itchy sense of betrayal that had been bothering him like a thorn in his heel every step of the way home was like a spike of ice in his back now.  “There’s no ‘we’,” he said slowly.  “This isn’t your decision.”

Tony slumped a little, trying to find a way to explain himself without making the situation worse.  “I know it’s not.  But come on, Steve.  It’s almost been a month since you found out she doesn’t have the serum, and you haven’t…  You know.”

“I haven’t _what?_ ”

Tony sighed.  “ _Done_ anything.  You’re right.  It’s your decision.  Don’t you think you should make it?”

“I’m sorry I’m trying your patience,” Steve said.  His words sounded harsh to him, harsher than he intended, but he couldn’t believe how hurt he was by Tony’s presumptuous actions.

“Steve, for God’s sake, don’t be so touchy.  Geez.  Cool off,” Tony said.  His own composure was fraying, and seeing that made Steve take a step back and make an effort to get himself under control.  Tony was his friend, and he deserved a chance to talk.  “I know I probably overstepped my bounds.”  _Probably?_   “But I was just trying to gather information.  Get the process started if you wanted to give her away.  That way we’ll be ready if you make that choice.  I was going to tell you about it soon.  Honestly.  I was hoping you’d come to me first, but you seemed unsure, so I was waiting.  But here you are, so…”  Tony drew a deep breath.  “Pepper knows some people, really nice people.  Cousins of hers.  Totally on the level.  And there are other families, too.  I’ve had JARVIS compiling a short list from adoption agencies all around the country, doing extensive background checks, trying to match people ideologically to things you hold in high regard, you know, stuff like that.  There are dozens of possibilities.  Young couples.  Older couples.  People that live in the city.  People out in the country or the ’burbs.  Small families.  Big families.  _All_ of them can provide a wonderful home for her.  These people have all been vetted, first by the government and the adoption agencies, and then by JARVIS and me, which is way more telling, by the way.  Any one of them is a winner.”

Steve’s head was spinning just listening to Tony’s fast-paced words.  “I’ve already laid the groundwork for setting up a custodial trust fund for Sarah, too.  You and I will be able to put any amount of money we want into it at any time.  The parents, whoever they’ll be, will be able to draw from it for things like college and whatever else she wants or needs.  And it’s going to be completely confidential and strictly private.  The people taking her will have no way to figure out she came from you; even if they breach the terms of the adoption, it’s going to be untraceable.  JARVIS and I will make sure of that.  It’s all ready to go, Steve.”

Tony sounded so hopeful, so earnest, like he figured he’d do all this and Steve would see the light and just agree.  For his own part, Steve was equally shocked and hurt.  “Tony, I don’t…  I don’t want to give her up.”

There.  He said it.  He’d been beating around the bush for a month now, hemming and hawing and wondering and thinking so much about it all.  He hadn’t even admitted that to himself because he’d been so caught up in his head.  And ironically, for all his contemplating and considering, there was no doubt in his mind right now about saying it.  He just said it.  And it _felt_ right.

Tony appeared like he didn’t understand.  Then he swiped away all of Bruce’s compounds and diagrams from the holographic display and stepped closer to Steve.  “You can’t keep her.”

“Why not?” Steve asked hotly.

“Because you’re Captain America!”  Even Tony seemed surprised by both the volume and desperation in his voice.  He winced a little, averting his gaze and struggling to maintain his cool.  Steve glanced to Bruce, who looked uncomfortable and uncertain.  Tony went on.  “You’re Captain America.  And you can’t do what you do with a baby at home.  You just can’t.  None of us can.”

That wasn’t acceptable.  “Why not?”

“Steve,” Bruce softly said, “think with your head, not with your heart.  Tony has a point.  Who’s going to take her when the call comes in?  Who’s going to watch over her if you’re gone for days, maybe even weeks at a time?”

“It can’t be Pepper,” Tony threw in quickly.  Steve glanced sharply at him.  “She’d do it in a heartbeat, but she can’t.  What if she’s in Malibu when we have to go?  Or somewhere else around the world?  She can’t just drop everything.  She’s running Stark Industries.  It’s not fair to tie her down like that.”

“I’ll…”  Steve floundered.  “I’ll get a babysitter.  A nanny.  Someone who lives here and can be ready on a moment’s notice.”

“Who do you trust to do that?” Tony returned.  “And you’re putting us _all_ at risk by bringing a stranger in.”

“Tony, that’s not fair to me,” Steve returned.  “If we can find a family good enough to take her, then we sure as heck can find a babysitter we can trust.”

“There’s a difference between asking a family to take a baby about whom they know nothing and asking someone to live with the Avengers.  A _huge_ difference.”

Steve wasn’t about to back down.  “Then I’ll leave.  I already said I would.”

Tony backed off because he wasn’t being fair and he knew it.  And he didn’t want Steve to leave.  Bruce stepped closer like he was trying to ease the tense situation.  “It’s not just the logistics, Steve,” he said calmly.  “What are you going to do if you get hurt?”

Steve released a short, hot breath.  He walked over to one of the lab benches and leaned into it, bracing his hands on the metal top and looking down at his shoes.  “I heal fast.”

“Yeah, you do,” Tony said, “but you get hurt _a lot_ and don’t even try to lie about it.  We’ve been a team for a while, and I’ve seen you take way too many hits you shouldn’t be taking.  You treat your body like you treat your shield, and maybe that’s okay, and that’s a _big_ maybe, by the way, but it’s hard for _us_ to watch you do it.  You want to make a child see you break bones and get shot and…”  Steve stiffened.  “Alright, I’m sorry.  Just…  You know what I’m saying.  Getting injured is an occupational hazard for us.  So is working weird hours and leaving on a moment’s notice and dealing with danger.  _None_ of that is conducive to raising a kid.  And I know you’ve thought about all of this.  You’re smart.  You _know_ this isn’t going to work.”

Hearing Tony say aloud the exact same worries that had been tormenting him for weeks made it all raw again.  This was the same discussion that they’d had before, and the same miserable argument he’d had with himself every day since Sarah had unexpectedly come into his life.  He kept his gaze firmly planted on his feet, feeling his hands squeeze the table in frustration.  The metal gave before he realized what he was doing.  “Sorry,” he muttered, looking at the finger-sized dents.  He felt more than saw Tony and Bruce share a worried, knowing glance.  He shook his head.  “You don’t know what you’re asking me to do.”  He closed his eyes.  “You don’t know.”

“Yes, we do,” Tony said, equally softly.  “We know exactly how hard it’s going to be.  But you have to realize this is for the best.  And you don’t need to feel bad.”

“I think that’s my call, isn’t it,” Steve harshly said.  “You don’t get to tell me how to feel!”

Bruce sighed.  “Steve, you know you can’t be Captain America and be Sarah’s father.  It’s just not possible.  You’re standing here, trying to weigh the consequences, but that’s so hard to do when you’re as emotionally invested as you are.  And that’s not your fault in the least; it’s only natural.  But when you look at it objectively, letting her go to a family somewhere is really the best option for everyone.”  Steve could hardly think for the pounding of his heart.  He respected Bruce a lot.  In some ways, he thought Bruce was smarter than Tony.  Maybe “smarter” wasn’t the correct term.  “Wiser” was more appropriate.  Bruce was so soft-spoken, so in control over himself.  He wasn’t given to compulsion or impulse.  He was calm and cool and rarely bound to his emotions.  He’d trained himself to look at the world rationally, to ignore the urge to be angry or frustrated or upset.  So when he said something was logical, it really was.

But _none_ of this was logical.  It never had been.  Steve drew a deep breath to steady himself.  “I’ve tried thinking about this.  I’ve been doing _nothing_ but thinking about it.  Every waking minute.  It’s awful.  And I keep trying to weigh the consequences, figure out what’s best for her and what’s best for me…  Figure out how to do the right thing.  But you know what?  The consequences aren’t just some variables in your equations.  There’s no way to measure them, no way to even define them, so you can’t compare them.  You can’t just figure it out and come up with an answer like you guys want.”

“Steve, you’re oversimplifying this,” Tony said.

“Yes, I am,” he said.  “And I’m letting my emotions cloud my judgment and thinking with my heart instead of my head.  I know I am.  But it’s the only way I know how to deal with this.  It’s who I am.  And I know in my heart that I can’t let her go.”

“So that’s it?  You want to give up the shield?  Give up being Captain America?”  Tony was angry.  And hurt.  And _disappointed_.  This was what it was coming down to.  Steve would have to step down as their leader, resign from SHIELD…  Leave the team.  And Steve was so much the core of the Avengers that without him, Tony was afraid there wouldn’t _be_ a team.  Tony was afraid of losing that.  As was Clint.  And Bruce, clearly.  And probably Natasha.

Honestly, so was he.  “No!  No.  That’s not what I’m saying.  There’s a way to make it work.  I know there is.  It doesn’t have to be all or none.”

“That’s…  I wish it was that simple,” Bruce said.

“Why can’t it be?”

“Because it can’t be!” Tony retorted, his voice cracking with emotion that he couldn’t restrain.  “Steve, you can’t do this to the team.  We need you.”

“You need Captain America.”

“Don’t you dare.  We need _you._ ”

“And she’s part of _me_.”  Steve couldn’t believe what he was hearing.  It _hurt_.  “What happened to supporting me no matter what?  What happened to me not going through this by myself?”

“I’m trying to support you,” Tony insisted.  “I’m trying to make this easier for you.”

“By getting a list of names together?  By throwing money at the problem?”  Again, that was much meaner than he intended, but he couldn’t help how he felt.  Betrayed.  Betrayed by the only people in this world he trusted unconditionally.  “Why did you even offer to let me bring Sarah here?”

“I told you,” Tony said.  “When we all thought she had the serum, it was the best possible choice.  But she doesn’t have the serum, Steve.  Not that I want you to leave.  That is the _last_ thing I want.”

“You’re making it impossible for this to end any other way,” Steve declared.  “You’re making me choose.”

“No.”

“Yes!”  This was taking him back, and not in a good way, to the fights he used to have with Tony, where they’d goad each other and hurt each other and bicker because that was the only way they could communicate.  It felt like so long ago, but it wasn’t, really.  “This isn’t about the serum.  I’m tired of everyone whittling this down to the serum.  Whether she has it or not.  Is she worth more if she does?  Is she worthy of being my daughter if she does?  Is she worthy of _us_ if she does?”

“Stop,” Tony snapped, aghast with the idea.  “That’s not what I’m saying.”

“Why should the serum be the deciding factor?”

“It’s not the deciding factor, but it is a factor.”

“I can’t just give her up, Tony!” Steve yelled.  His abrupt shout almost made Bruce jump.  “I can’t do it!  It’s not right!”

Tony shook his head, stepping right up to Steve.  “No, there’s no right or wrong here.  And you don’t have to choose between us and her.  But for heaven’s sake, Steve, you’re making this so much harder on yourself and I know you know that.  Whatever you want to do, you need to decide.  You know what we think.  And you know what else?  I meant what I said about supporting you.”  Steve flushed in shame and looked away.  “But if you’re going to let her go, you need to do it soon.  The more emotionally invested you get, the harder it’s going to be.  And you think you’re not seeing clearly now?  Wait until you’re too far gone to even consider the alternative.  You may be there already.  Wait until she gets attached to you.”

“She is attached to me,” Steve argued.

“Yeah, but she’s a baby.  She’ll adapt.  And she won’t remember if you do it now.  But if you keep putting this off…”  Tony’s expression softened with genuine concern.  Genuine fear.  “I don’t want you to realize six months from now or a year from now or any time _ever_ that you made the wrong choice.  It’ll hurt you.  I don’t want to see that happen to you.”

Steve couldn’t think of anything to say to that.  Everything, all his anger and resentment and the bitterness of betrayal…  It all disappeared, like a fire smothered inside him.  He couldn’t be mad at Tony.  Tony was just trying to protect him.  He could hardly blame his friend for wanting to do that.  _But what about Sarah?  Am I the only one who cares about protecting her?_ The silence that came was unsettled, unsatisfied.  Steve got the impression that he wasn’t the only one bereft of words.  Bruce simply looked sad.  And Tony was watching him with wide, imploring eyes, asking him to _think_ , not just to consider the consequences to him and to Sarah, but to all of them because no matter what, Steve’s fate was tied to the team’s.  They weren’t so separable.  Steve had known that, too, even if he hadn’t wanted to admit it to himself.

This whole thing was such a messed up situation.

“Captain Rogers, sir.”  JARVIS’ serene tone echoed through the quiet workshop.  “It seems Miss Sarah is stirring from her nap.  I believe it is time for her bottle.”

Steve held Tony’s gaze a moment more.  “On my way, JARVIS.”  He lifted his chin, gathering himself.  “Please don’t do anymore.  I get that you meant well – _mean_ well – but I don’t want it.”  He didn’t specify what _it_ was exactly.  Tony’s help.  Tony pushing his way into Steve’s business.  Tony’s support if it meant Tony’s opinions.  He didn’t specify because he didn’t know.

All he knew was he couldn’t give away his daughter.  Maybe it was old-fashioned and stubborn and short-sighted, but he was her father.  That meant something.

“Sure, Cap,” Tony said easily enough.  Steve knew him too well not to detect the hurt, the anger, and the guilt.  Hearing those things in Tony’s voice stoked the same feelings back to life inside him.  Tony turned away and went to back to Bruce.  “Where were we, Doctor Banner?”

Steve didn’t wait to hear what Bruce had to say.  He turned and left, feeling hollowed out and alone.

* * *

Since the argument he’d had with Tony, things were tense to say the least.  Tony was making a rather pointed effort to not be around him.  They hadn’t been together much before, but now it was a sore, open wound between them.  It once again reminded him of their early days as a team, when he and Tony had been fighting a lot and everyone else had been caught in the middle.  The rest of the team noticed they weren’t getting along.  And everyone (albeit silently) took a side.  Bruce with Tony.  Thor with Steve.  Clint with himself, because it was pretty obvious he didn’t want to be involved (though Steve figured that he would side with Tony if he was pressed).  Pepper just…  Pepper just looked _guilty_ , unhappy that Steve had found out about what Tony was doing.  Of course she’d known, too, and she’d apologized to Steve profusely for not telling him.  It was harder for Steve to be angry with her, although on some level her betrayal was worse than Tony’s.  She was the one upon whom he depended the most for help with Sarah, so he’d always assumed she’d be his staunchest supporter.  It had certainly started out that way.  But he remembered how Tony had told him it wouldn’t be fair to Pepper to assume she’d take the baby whenever Steve needed her to, and that tempered his anger because Tony was right.  Had he forgotten how he’d felt in the beginning, when the thought of negatively impacting the team had nearly driven him away?  Had he taken for granted everything he’d been given, their acceptance most of all?

The disquiet was miserable, and a few days into it, Steve was on the verge of simply taking Sarah and moving out, at least for a while until things calmed down.  He had plenty of his own money; seventy years of back pay from the army had amassed into a sizeable chunk of change, not to mention what he earned from SHIELD now.  He could certainly do this on his own, buy a house somewhere or an apartment in the city, find someone _he_ could trust to help him when he needed it.  He knew he could make this work.  But he didn’t want to ruin Thanksgiving, which was coming quickly.  And he didn’t _want_ to leave.  He didn’t want to lose his team, his friends, the closest thing he had to a family.  He’d already lost so much.  Bucky.  Peggy.  Everything he’d known.  His whole world.  The thought of giving up the people he’d found in this time was…  Well, he didn’t want to think about it.  And what if Tony was right?  What if he was being selfish?  The world needed the Avengers, and the Avengers needed Captain America.  He knew he was letting his team down.  Failing.

_No.  There’s a way to make this work.  I just have to find it._

Until he did, he just needed to find a way to live with the others without causing any more trouble, any more friction.  A way to get past what Tony had done.  Needless to say, it wasn’t easy.  And it was about to get worse.  As much as he had worried about it, _agonized_ over it, Steve wasn’t at all ready for the call when it came in.

Fury was ordering the Avengers to assemble.

It was the day before Thanksgiving.  That was a saving grace in a way because all of them (save for Natasha) were at the Tower.  They were gathered in the common room, Tony and Clint bickering about something, Pepper attempting to plan the menu for dinner tomorrow, Thor somewhat engrossed in the news.  Steve sat with him on the couch, Sarah on his lap, gurgling and watching and drooling onto her bib.  She was sitting a little bit now as long as he supported her.  She had one of her (many) Thanksgiving outfits on (seriously, how many did one baby need for a holiday that happened once a year?).  Her features had changed a lot in the last few weeks.  Her hair was lighter, blonder.  Now even Steve could see how much she looked like him, though mostly he was still reminded of his mother.  She’d figured out how to get her fingers in her mouth, and that seemed to go part and parcel with the amount of slobber continually wetting her bib.  Still, she was content, as much a part of their group, their family, as any of them were.  Thor was reaching to the coffee table to hand Steve a tissue for Sarah’s face when JARVIS’ calm tone interrupted the evening.  “Sirs, Director Fury is calling.”

Everything in the room came to a sudden halt.  The conversation.  The noise.  Hearts and minds.  Tony got off his stool by the bar of the kitchen, looking worried.  “Patch him through, J.”

The news winked off the main screen and Fury’s face appeared.  He also looked worried.  “Stark.  Good.  Everyone’s there.  We have a situation brewing in Queens.  Terrorists have taken over LaGuardia.”

“That’s not funny,” Tony said, whiter still.  Not at all.  This was one of the busiest days for travel during the whole year, of course.  That likely wasn’t a coincidence.  Thousands of people were probably in danger, not to mention what could happen if the terrorists got their hands on the aircraft on the ground there.  Disrupting holiday travel was the least of their concerns.

“Does it look like I’m laughing?” Fury asked irately.  “I need the Avengers on this.  I know Agent Romanoff is on assignment, but the rest of you can handle it.  I’m sending what intel we have.  It’s not much.  More than a dozen terrorists are involved with this, and they’ve got some bombs hidden around the airport.  This group may be some sort of offshoot of AIM, something that came out of the ashes when the principal players went down.”

“What are their demands?” Clint asked.

“Unreasonable, and the government doesn’t have the time to get the money together, even if it was willing.  I want this done cleanly, with minimal damage and the best protection of civilians possible.  Get the people clear, and put these people down.  Understood?”

Fury was looking right at Steve, like he was asking him.  Challenging him, maybe.  Reminding him that this was his duty above all else.  Steve stood, shifting Sarah up to his shoulder.  His heart was pounding in apprehension and anxiety.  He wasn’t ready to do this.  _He wasn’t ready._   But he had to.  “Understood, sir,” he stated firmly, his cool, calm voice betraying none of the fear and worry roiling in his heart.  The screen turned off as Fury ended the call.  Steve released a slow breath, trying to center himself.  Sarah mewled a bit at his neck, her hands tight in his shirt.  She squirmed in his arms like she was aware of what was happening, of the tension permeating the room.  The sudden change in atmosphere, in her father.  The others were watching him.  Waiting to see what he was going to do.  Clint, steady.  Bruce, questioning.  Tony, questioning even more, worried and desperate to do something to make this easier despite everything that had gone wrong between them.  Pepper, frightened.  And Thor.  Thor grabbed Steve’s shoulder wordlessly in a brotherly show of support.  Steve breathed again.  He was Captain America.  He needed to lead the team.  “Suit up.  Let’s go.”

“Steve,” Tony said, stepping closer.  “We can handle this without you.  Sit it out until–”

“No.  I need to do this.  And that’s not fair to any of you,” Steve said.  He looked down at Sarah where she was mouthing his shirt.  He tried not to feel, tried not to let the worry and fear building inside of him reach any part of him that could be distracted or damaged.  _I need to do this.  Need to leave her.  Need to fight.  I need to lead the team._

The others were moving, racing out of the living room in search of their equipment.  Pepper was there at his side before he even thought to ask.  “Let me take her,” she said softly, holding her arms open.  For all his bravado a moment before, Steve didn’t want to let Sarah go.  His arms tightened involuntarily, like some sort of knee-jerk reaction.  Pepper noticed and smiled disarmingly, but he could see the worry in her eyes.  “She’ll be fine with me, won’t you, darling?  Come here.”  Pepper’s long, slender fingers were around Sarah’s torso, and she pulled the baby away from Steve’s shoulder.  Sarah squawked at that, unhappy, fussing as she lost her grip on her father.  Steve couldn’t believe how much this hurt.  Pepper smiled still, touching Steve’s shoulder.  “Go.”

_I have to go._

He remembered to breathe again.  He nodded, rubbing his finger down the baby’s cheek.  Then he leaned in close, kissed her hard on the head, and ran out of the common room, trying his hardest to not hear Sarah crying for him.

* * *

A group of terrorists turned out be a small army of terrorists.  And some bombs ended up being _many_ bombs.  Apparently these villains flat-out attacked LaGuardia, storming the airport with guns blazing and people fleeing in horror, using the chaos to overwhelm airport police.  Now they were deeply embedded, holding thousands of people hostage with some elaborate setup they’d used to rig the terminals with explosives.  Thor and the Hulk were contending with the terrorists, who’d come prepared to face the Avengers.  They obviously did have some connection to AIM, as they were wielding guns and weaponry that were giving the two strongest members of the team some trouble (or annoyance, as Thor termed it).  Some of them appeared to be using Extremis as well.  Iron Man was racing around the airport, struggling to dismantle the bombs.  And Steve and Clint were charged with keeping the people safe, handling the evacuation while protecting the poor civilians caught in the middle of this.

It was going rather well.  At least it seemed to be.  Most of the airport was empty at this point, Steve coordinating with local law enforcement to get the thousands of people out quickly and efficiently with Hawkeye keeping a bird’s eye view of everything.  Thankfully, while a good deal of the travelers and airport employees were panicking, security and the police officers present were not, and when they saw Captain America’s familiar uniform and shield, they all too quickly scrambled to do what they could to help with relief in their eyes and voices.  Getting the people to safety was the top priority, and Steve and Clint kept the terrorists busy while the evacuation went on.  Meanwhile, Tony was moving fast to prevent AIM from blowing the whole place.  “Three down,” he said into the communications link, “four to go.  Or five.  How many, JARVIS?”

“Six, sir,” JARVIS corrected.

“We need those bombs defused, Iron Man,” Steve declared, landing a fierce roundhouse kick into one of the thugs coming at him.  He punched another, threw his shield at a third, and then tossed a fourth back into the group of them still standing all before any of them could stop him.  “We got five minutes until they go off.  The airport is still not clear.”

“Not enough time,” Tony responded.  “And Banner is off smashing.”

Clint was right beside Steve.  They were moving deeper into the more distant sections of the last terminal, searching for people who had ignored the call to escape or were trapped by their enemies.  In the distance, Steve saw lightning rake the sky.  Thor was out on the runway, doing battle with a slew of enemies in tech that looked like they’d pilfered it right from Tony’s stash.  Guns were firing, spraying blue bolts of energy that too clearly reminded Steve of HYDRA weapons.  It was pouring rain.  A huge chunk of a destroyed 747 was thrown at the opponents foolish enough to continue doing battle with the Hulk.  _So much for minimal property damage._ Steve didn’t spare more than a glance.  He and Clint were near the end of the last terminal.  They’d swept through all of the others, putting down enemies where they encountered but mostly just ushering the people to safety.  Everything was dark and shadowy; the terrorists had cut the power during their attack.  “Stark, is this something I can help you with?” Clint asked, covering their rear as they moved deeper into the seemingly vacant area.

“Probably!” Tony tightly responded.

Steve shared a quick look with Clint.  “Go,” he ordered.

Clint nodded curtly, not even bothering to ask Steve if he had this in hand or to remind him to be careful.  There wasn’t time.  Steve made sure his shield was secure on his arm and ran deeper, passing dark, abandoned gates and dropped luggage.  Emergency lights were flashing, and an alarm was shrilly ringing somewhere.  “Is anyone here?” he called, knowing he was exposing his position but far more concerned with drawing out any potential innocents.  “If you can hear me, I need you to come to me.  I’m here to get you out.”  A few people immediately ran from behind some seats further down the terminal.  More exited a shop to his left.  “Are there more of you?” Steve asked a man in a rumpled blue suit.

“Down that way.  They took them!” the man gasped, his face covered in sweat and his eyes wide with panic.

Steve didn’t waste any more time.  “Get these people back to the main terminal!  There’s help there!”  Then he took off in a run, charging the direction at which the man had pointed.  He held his wrist communicator up to his mouth.  “More terrorists down the end of the last terminal.  I’m engaging.”

“Be careful, Cap,” Tony warned.  “Seven down.  Hawkeye, you got that one?”

“On it,” Clint responded.

“Time?” Steve asked.  His boots thundered on the carpeted floor.

“Three minutes, fifty-two seconds,” Tony answered.  “Hurry.  If there are more bombs down there, we aren’t going to be able to get to them.”

Steve didn’t like the sound of that.  He ran faster, reaching the end of the terminal where it opened into a larger lounge area flanked by numerous gates to the jet bridges on the tarmac outside.  Sure enough, the terrorists were there, standing in front of a few dozen people who were cowering on the floor on their hands and knees.  The soldiers had their guns raised and pointed at him.  Steve saw Tony’s fears were horrifyingly correct.  There was another bomb there, fastened to the floor among the hostages.  He didn’t bother trying to negotiate.  He attacked, flinging his shield forward and catching two of the men with it.  Their guns were firing, spitting a barrage of bullets at him that he was quick to dodge.  He dropped into a roll, springing up on his hands at its end to tackle one of the men firing at him.  He wrenched him around, turning that gun on his compatriots.  “Get down!” he screamed at the civilians, and they did, terrified, sobbing, and panicked.  There were ten AIM soldiers there, a few seemingly enhanced by Extremis, but not enough to really be a threat to him.  Steve fought quickly, taking them out.  With his shield back on his arm, he blocked the gunfire of another assailant.  The bullets reflected back at their shooter, and the man went down with a cry.  Steve kicked at another, sending him straight out one of the huge windows surrounding the area.  The last few were stronger, faster, and it was more of a challenge to face them all at once.

Some of the people were trying to flee, and one of the soldiers broke off from the melee to go after them.  Steve sacrificed his shield, throwing it at the attacker before he could hurt the hostages and dropping him to the ground but not before he’d tossed a grenade.  The section behind them leading back to the airport erupted in fire, the explosion destroying the walkway.  People screamed.  Everything shook, and when it was over, there was no way out.  Part of the ceiling had collapsed, and a great deal of it was burning.

Without his shield, one of the other soldiers landed a lucky strike into Steve’s flank that knocked him away, and the second guy swept his feet out from under him.  He landed roughly on his back, the first attacker launching himself on him and trying to pummel him senseless.  Only one of his punches landed; even with Extremis, he was slower than Steve, and the next blow the super soldier caught.  He twisted the man’s arm, breaking it, and kicked him over into the desk behind them.  The man smashed through it, breaking wood and metal.  Steve leapt back to his feet, grabbed the final soldier by his combat vest, and tossed him out the window.

He stood for a moment, appraising the situation.  “Terminal secure,” he said into his communicator.  “But there’s a bomb down here.”

Tony cursed colorfully.  “I’m on my way.”

“No time,” Steve said breathlessly.  The countdown on the device read less than two minutes.  He needed to get these people out of here.  “What’s the blast radius on these things?”

“Big enough,” Tony answered.

Steve gritted his teeth.  “Thor, I need the Hulk here!”

He didn’t wait for a response, rushing to the window.  “Take them back out to the main terminal,” Tony suggested.

“It’s blocked,” Steve announced grimly.  “Thor!”

“He is coming!” Thor replied.

Steve kicked the glass aside, knocking it down and making sure the way was safe.  A few dozen feet below was the tarmac, too far for a normal person to safely jump.  “Alright, everyone!” he yelled, turning to the people still trapped with him.  “The Hulk is coming to get you out of here!  I need everyone calm.”

“Are we going to die?” a woman cried, her face wet with tears.

“No,” Steve replied confidently.  “Just stay calm and patient.  Everything is fine.”  Steve glanced to the counter on the bomb.  A minute was left now.  Not enough time.  A roar resounded, shaking the very foundation of the airport, and Steve’s heart nearly shuddered in relief.  There was a green blur amidst the smoke and rain outside.  The Hulk catapulted across the runway and taxi ways, thundering up to the terminal.  “One at a time.  Come here!”

No words were needed between the Hulk and Captain America.  The Hulk trusted Steve like he trusted no one else, and he was waiting, reaching up to grab the civilians as Steve handed them down.  They worked fast, extremely so, Steve lowering the people two at a time to the Hulk.  As soon as the Hulk had them down on the tarmac, they were running, heading in the rain to emergency personnel that had come.  There were thirty seconds remaining, and still ten or so people who needed to get down.  Each moment slipped away so quickly.  One of the last women wouldn’t come any closer.  “Come on!” Steve yelled.  “Come on, ma’am!”

“I can’t!” she cried.

The last man just jumped, and the Hulk caught him.  Steve lowered a little boy down.  The Hulk carefully took him, too.  Iron Man arrived.  “Steve, you need to get clear!  It’s going to blow!” Tony demanded.

“There’s no time!” Steve shouted to the reticent woman.  _“Come on!”_

She was almost hysterical.  “I can’t – I’ll fall!  Oh, God!  Oh, God!”

He was across the floor to where she was still cowering by the seats near one of the gates.  “I am not going to let you fall.  Trust me,” he swore in as comforting a tone as he could manage given that there was significantly sized bomb about to detonate behind him.  He opened his arms to her, but still she hesitated, sobbing and beyond any sort of reasoning.  Steve lost his patience and snatched her about the wrist, sweeping her up into his embrace like she weighed nothing.  He took two huge steps, not stopping to see the counter tick down the last second.  He jumped.

He barely got away in time.  The Hulk was there to shield him from the blast as the terminal exploded right behind him.  The racket was deafening, a huge ball of fire erupting and debris slamming over them.  The woman was screaming in his ear as he curled protectively around her.  The Hulk took the brunt of the damage, grunting and snarling in annoyance as he stood tall between them and the explosion.

When it was over, Steve looked up.  The lady was clinging to him like mad, screaming still.  He saw the entire end of the terminal engulfed in humongous flames that sizzled and hissed in the rain.  Massive plumes of inky smoke reached into the sky, black on gray.  He’d gotten everyone out.  The Hulk roared, startling the last of the hostages still gathered around them, before he turned and charged back to the fight out on the runway.  It looked like the remainder of AIM’s forces were trying to retreat.  Iron Man hovered behind Steve, watching as Thor and the Hulk finished off their attackers.  He set down on the tarmac, ordering people to move away.  Most were hurt or too shocked to comply immediately, emergency crews coming in force to aid them.  “Hawkeye,” Steve said into his communicator after peeling the woman still hanging on him from his arm, “what’s your status?”

“Clear,” Clint responded.  “The other bombs were defused.”

Steve couldn’t help his relief.

But it didn’t last long.

The terminal’s supports snapped with a horrifically loud crack.  Suddenly the huge, burning structure was tipping and tumbling toward them and the few innocent people still gathered around them.  “Tony!” Steve cried.

Iron Man jetted forward and caught a significant chunk of the falling building.  Steve moved as well, wrenching his shield from his back and joining Tony in holding the debris up.  The heat was nearly unbearable, and chunks of wreckage were falling all everywhere.  A few of the civilians including the little boy were still trapped.  “Go!”  A couple of them ran, those closest to where it was clear, but not enough.  Steve gritted his teeth, fighting not to be crushed.  “Tony!  Get them!”

Iron Man looked at him, that menacing scowl permanently affixed to his features seemingly riddled with concern.  “Can you hold it?” he demanded.

Steve didn’t know.  He would have to.  “Go!”

Tony moved fast.  The armor protected him from the flames and debris as he ran under the remains of the section of the terminal, lifting it up as much as he could as he struggled toward the screaming people.  Steve howled himself, pushing as hard as he could on his shield, fighting for traction.  Fighting to stay upright under the incredible weight.  “Tony!  Tony, you got them?” he ground out.

“I got ’em!”  Tony shouted, and Iron Man shot past Steve to safety, the child tucked against his shoulder, two others tight under his other arm.  “Steve!  Get out of there!”

It was too late.

_“Steve!”_

Something exploded in front of him, something behind the section he was holding up.  The force of it knocked Steve clear off his feet, and the weight of the flaming hell came down onto him.  He screamed, barely getting his shield up and over his head, as he was buried.  The pain was excruciating.  His voice failed him, and darkness enclosed him, tight and heavy.  Distantly he could hear Tony calling his name in hoarse panic.  Thor yelling for him.  Clint demanding to know what was going on.  The Hulk roaring in fury.  It was all right in his left ear, loud but inexplicably far from him.  Like Sarah’s crying.  It was all so far away now.  So was the guilt.  And the pain.  And the fear.  His heart slowed and his lungs stopped.  He was being crushed to death.  Some part of his mind that was still functioning knew he wasn’t going to make it.

Tony was right.  He really should have known better.

And Sarah was going to be alone.  He’d left her with a kiss and nothing more.  She was going to cry for him.  He wasn’t coming home to her, and she was going to cry…


	9. Chapter 9

When Steve woke up, he was frankly pretty shocked he was alive.  At least, he was fairly certain he was alive.  Things were coming to him in pieces.  He was off the cold, hard ground, someplace warmer and softer and safer.  Scattered thoughts and sensations pulled together sluggishly and haphazardly.  He was staring at a darkened tile ceiling.  He was in a bed.  Something was beeping, and something else was swishing.  He couldn’t move.  Was he hurt?  Was he still trapped under the wreckage?  Pinned?

No.  “Easy, Steve,” a familiar voice called from his left.  He blinked in futility, trying to clear the haze of unconsciousness and tears that had been trapped in his eyes.  It took a seeming eternity before he managed to focus on the face above him.  Then he couldn’t put the features together right away.  Blue eyes teeming with worry.  Blond hair and beard framing a strong jaw.  Lips locked in a frown.

“Thor?” he tried to say, but he couldn’t.  He couldn’t because there was a tube down his throat.  He tried to reach hand to it, slightly panicked as the alien and uncomfortable feeling of something pushing into his chest, but he couldn’t.  He couldn’t lift his arms.  They simply wouldn’t do it, like they were weighed down with something too heavy for him to move.  He must have trembled enough with the effort (or with horror), because Thor carefully took his hands and stilled him.

“Do not struggle, my friend,” the demigod warned kindly.  He moved closer, holding Steve’s hands tightly.  “This machine is helping you breathe.  You are very badly injured.”

Steve closed his eyes in exhaustion.  Like it was tied to that sudden realization, the pain came pounding at him, hard and harsh and _all over_.  It wasn’t distant now.  It was sharp and insistent, burning and throbbing and wracking him with misery.  He couldn’t groan, couldn’t do much of anything really, and his brain was so jumbled and hazy that the onslaught pretty much rendered him incognizant again.  “Hold on, Steve.  I am here with you.”  Firm, comforting fingers swept onto his forehead, brushing back his hair, and others held his right hand tightly.  Thor smiled, though it was heavy with worry and fear.  “You will get through this.  I will make certain of it.”

He wasn’t so sure.  The agony was rapidly ripping every thought of his head.  He barely clung to one, one question he knew he _needed_ to ask, but he couldn’t with that tube down his throat.  Thor saw it in his eyes, though, and bless him, he understood.  “The babe is fine.  Lady Pepper cares for her.  Jane is with them.  Do not trouble yourself with that right now.  Squeeze my hand if you need.  You will not hurt me.”  Steve did.  He squeezed as hard as he could.  It was all he could do against the pain, and it was a mere shade of his normal power.  “I’m with you.  We’re all with you.”

It went on for a long time.  When the pain became unbearable (and it did often), his body was smart enough to shut down and let him pass out.  He drifted, awaking to Thor’s gentle but insistent promises that he would be okay, that he could cry if he needed (which he did) and hold as tight as he wanted to Thor’s hand (which he did, too).  He had the vague impression that time was passing, but he couldn’t tell how much.  Minutes.  Hours.  Days, maybe, although he prayed not.  The times he spent awake, battling through his suffering, were endless, stretched infinitely long by every wave of agony coursing over his helpless body.  The periods he spent mostly unconscious or deeply asleep seemed unusually short, foggy with the realization that time had passed but with no clear indication of how much.  All he knew was the next moment he was aware, truly aware, the tube was gone from his throat and Thor was gone from the chair by the bed.  “Clint?”

“Right here,” Clint promised softly.  The room was dark, only a light on behind him somewhere that was soft and yellowish.  Hands grabbed his and held tight again.  He realized there was something wrapped around his fingers because Clint’s skin wasn’t contacting his.  That was probably a good thing.  The touch hurt.  Clint loosened his grip.  “Right here, Cap.”

“…’s ’appenin’…”  Was that his voice?  It was so weak and hoarse.  It couldn’t have been his.

“You’re in the hospital.  Been here a couple of days now,” Clint explained.  That didn’t make much sense to his beleaguered mind.  Why was he in the hospital?  What had happened?  His memories wouldn’t cooperate, clashing together to form a fairly disjointed picture of things.  For a moment, he almost convinced himself that this shadowy person holding his hands and leaning close to him _couldn’t_ be Clint.  It had to be Bucky, because he had a fever and was coming out of another bout with pneumonia.  That was why his voice sounded so funny.  That was why he was so weak and out of breath and sort of numb.  That was why his head felt stuffed with wool, why he couldn’t string a thought together to save his life.  He’d gotten sick again, and it was dark because this was their apartment in Brooklyn and it was the middle of the night and Bucky was right there with him like he always was.

No, this wasn’t Brooklyn.  That thought came slicing through his mind again.  Persistent.  Unerring.  This was 2014, and he was with the Avengers.  And he was Sarah’s father.  _Sarah._   He tried to say her name, but his lips wouldn’t work right and his throat wouldn’t cooperate and his tongue was a dried lump in his mouth.  “Don’t try to talk,” Clint said a little sternly.  He shifted a little, bringing a cup of water to Steve.  He guided the straw between Steve’s lips and helped him drink.  The water tasted really good, but he wasn’t strong enough to do more than pathetically suck, and even that hurt.  “You’re out of the woods, but not by much.”

Steve’s eyelids fluttered shut again, and breathing was trying.  He took better stock of himself for the first time in what seemed to be days.  He was in a hospital bed and hooked up to all kinds of machinery (though obviously not the ventilator anymore, and that probably explained why his throat hurt so badly).  He was wrapped in bandages.  His right leg was in a cast from his foot to above his knee.  Anything more he couldn’t feel, at least nothing beyond the dull fog of pain.  He supposed he should have been grateful.  “Bad?” he whispered.

“Bad,” Clint responded softly.  Sadly.  Worriedly.  “Really bad.”

“All okay?”

Clint offered a weak smile.  “We’re all fine.  Don’t talk.  Just rest.”

He couldn’t.  His body wanted to.  The mere act of waking up for a few hazy minutes, trying to think, and taking a few sips of water had exhausted him.  But he couldn’t succumb to the alluring pull of slumber yet.  Now that he could talk even a little, he had to ask.  He had to know.  “S…  Sarah?”

“She’s fine,” Clint assured.  Even in the lowlight, Steve could see how much his eyes were full of fear.  And pain.  Some idle part of Steve felt guilty for worrying Clint (and everyone else) like this.  But that (and everything else) wasn’t strong enough to push him down.  “Thor and Doctor Foster have been taking care of her.  They wanted to bring her here, but the doctors don’t think it’s a good idea.  The serum’s strong, but if you get sick…”  Clint looked a little angry, a little haunted by something to which Steve (obviously) hadn’t been privy.  “Enough.  I mean it.  You need to sleep.”

Steve wasn’t strong enough to argue.  He lost his tenuous hold on awareness, listening to the beeping and the soft chatter of voices beyond the veil of darkness.  Clint’s hitched breaths and soft angry swears and pleas.   “Don’t leave us, Cap.  Can’t do this without you.”  So much trauma.  But the void into which he unwittingly sank was deep and fathomless, and he was lost in it for what felt like a long time.  There were fleeting sensations again.  Voices talking about him, but he really couldn’t understand the words.  Soft, small hands in his.  Firm, large hands.  Cool fingers on his forehead.  Lips against his cheek.  Voices he recognized.  Pepper.  Tony.  More of Clint and Thor.  Bruce.

When he finally woke up again, it was Bruce who was with him.  He was sitting in the chair, one leg crossed on his knee and a StarkPad on his lap.  Bruce noticed he was awake before he’d managed to think to speak. The physicist smiled warmly, but there was worry crinkling the skin about his eyes and mouth.  “Hey, Steve.  You with us now?”

Steve licked at his lips, finding them dry and sore.  “Dunno.”

Bruce laughed a little at that, a tad forced but mostly just shaking with barely hidden relief.  He stood, setting his tablet aside, and reached behind the bed to adjust something.  Steve was able to track him with his eyes enough to see him fumbling with the IV machine.  “How bad is the pain?” Bruce asked.

“Not bad,” he murmured.  That was oddly true, and probably a good thing.  He felt blessedly numb, like his body wasn’t really connected to him.  Detached.  He blinked blearily, looking down the length of him to his feet and not recognizing that he was seeing.  It was day now (or all the lights were on), and he could see a blanket draped over his lower body and up to his midriff.  His right leg really was in a cast and propped up on some pillows.  His left was burned.  Badly.  And his arms.  Most of both of them was covered in burns, too, wrapped up and limp on his belly.  And his belly was wrapped in gauze and pads as well.  _Oh, God._   The bandages were lined with red and pink and yellowish discharge.  “What…”

“You have third degree burns over 70% of your body,” Bruce commented.  He said that with the tone of a professional, a clinical assessment, but it was really just a mask to hide how afraid he’d been.  “It was bad enough that your uniform was melted into your skin.  You, uh, died twice.  They were barely able to get you back the second time.  Your internal injuries are pretty extensive, too.  I won’t go into them unless you want to hear it.  Your shield protected your neck and head from the worst of it, at least.  Probably saved your life.”

Steve closed his eyes.  Suddenly the horrible agony with Thor at his side was put into context.  As was Thor’s fear.  And Clint’s.  Bruce was still talking.  “You’re in the ICU,” he said, supplying information like Steve had asked.  “We didn’t think you were going to make it.”  That, too, was loaded with misery.  Steve couldn’t fathom the horror through which the team had suffered.  That touch of guilt he’d felt before at Clint’s anguish turned sharp, even worse than the dull ache of pain from pretty much every part of him.  “But you did.  Thank the serum.”

It was too much to process.  “Be okay?” he whispered.

Bruce cocked an eyebrow and settled himself back into the chair with a sigh.  “I think so,” he said with a bit of a smile.  “The worst is behind you.  It’s going to take some time.  You’ll be out of commission for a few weeks or maybe even more.  My bigger concern right now is feeding your metabolism; the serum’s kicking into high gear trying to repair the soft tissue damage.  IV nutrients can only do so much.  I want you back on food as soon as you’re feeling up to it.  Liquid diet first, and we’ll ease into everything else.  And you need to take it easy.  Really easy.”  He patted Steve’s bandaged hand gently.  “But you won’t even scar.  That’s a heck of a thing, Steve.  You were very lucky.”

Still too much to process.  He was shocked and horrified and relieved all at once.  “The baby…” he murmured, feeling himself shaking.

Bruce pulled another blanket up over him.  “She’s alright.  You need to focus on yourself right now.  Sleep.”

Steve managed to grab Bruce’s arm.  It was the first thing he’d done, the first real move he’d made, in what felt like forever.  And it hurt.  But he held on.  “Need to see the baby,” he said breathlessly.  “Need to see her.”

Bruce nodded sympathetically.  “I know.  You will.”  He took Steve’s bandaged hand gently, trying to dislodge him.  “But not right now.  Right now you need to rest.  You need it.”

It was hard.  Now that he was more aware, with a better understanding of what had happened, he wanted to see Sarah so badly that it was nearly driving him crazy, so just slipping back to sleep was nearly impossible for a while.  He didn’t want to sleep.  He wanted to _make sure_ Sarah was okay.  It wasn’t that he didn’t trust them; of course he did.  He just _needed_ to see her, to hold her.  He needed…

He fell asleep.

He cracked his eyes open to the disorienting sensation of having lost a significant chunk of time again.  Steve struggled to wake up, to pull himself from what had clearly been a deep and healing sleep.  He took stock of his surroundings with a few hazy blinks.  This was a different hospital room, bigger and less… serious-looking.  A lot of the medical equipment to which he’d been attached was gone.  He noticed there was a dark head of mussed and tousled hair resting on his bed by his right thigh, forehead braced against the mattress and familiar fingers wrapped pretty tightly around his.  “Tony?”

Tony straightened.  When he saw Steve looking at him, awake and not in terrible pain, his expression shifted to one of immense relief.  “You,” he said on a breath, his eyes brimming with wetness he was angrily trying to blink away.  “You don’t _ever_ do that again.  Never.  I mean it.”  Tony shook his head, struggling to hold himself together.  “You have no idea.  I pulled you out from under it, and I thought…  And then…”

“I’m sorry,” Steve whispered.  It killed him to see Tony like this, so shaken.  It hurt in a way he didn’t expect.  Suddenly everything they’d fought about before Thanksgiving seemed stupid and irrelevant.  He squeezed Tony’s hand as best he could.  “Sorry.”

Tony gave up trying to be discreet about it and wiped the tears from his eyes.  He turned and pulled a rolling table loaded with tissues and a pitcher of water and poured Steve a glass.  He handed it to his friend, inclining Steve’s bed a little with a touch of his hand to the control.  Steve noticed that a lot of the things in the room were nicer than the standard hospital fare he’d had in the past when he’d been hurt.  The room was large and private.  The blankets and sheets on his bed were expensive, warm, and soft.  There were flowers around, elaborate arrangements and cards and stuffed animals and gifts.  Tony helped Steve sit up, offering him the cup, which he took in his bandaged right hand.  Together they guided the cup to Steve’s mouth, Steve’s fingers shaking too badly on its own for him to do it.  When Steve was done drinking, Tony sniffled, grabbing a tissue.  “And you owe me, by the way.  Because apparently I don’t do well with stuff like this.  So never again.”  Tony was repeating and rambling.  He always did that when he was upset, and Steve had rarely seen him upset like this.  He wiped at his eyes with a grunt.  “Ugh.  You owe me for making me cry.  Damn it.”

“Sorry,” Steve said dumbly.

“I’m designing you a new suit, too.  Been working on it right here.”  He sat back down and held up a StarkPad, upon which Steve could see some drawings and notes that he was too fuzzy to possibly read.  “It’s going to be flame-retardant, or _more_ flame retardant.  The carbon polymer mesh I was using could stand an upgrade.  And this stuff here…”  Tony swiped his fingers over the screen, producing a representation of some sort of chemical.  “I’m going to buff up your shield and repaint it.  The new coating will repel heat, if I can figure this right.”

“Tony,” Steve said softly, trying to offer up some kind of comfort.

Tony swallowed thickly, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he tried to stay in control of himself.  He set his tablet aside and grabbed for Steve’s wrapped hands again.  “I thought we were going to lose you,” he admitted in a soft voice.

“You didn’t,” Steve responded, struggling himself not to lose his composure.  His throat felt tight, and his eyes were heavy with building tears.  The trauma from all of this was right there, but he didn’t want to get lost in it.  Not now.  “Bruce said…  Gonna be fine.”

Tony nodded, dipping his head again like he wasn’t quite capable of accepting that yet.  He sighed, his shoulders shaking with the motion.  He’d never been so obviously shaken.  Steve was so unsettled himself that it was easier to just not think about it.  Tony sniffed again and tossed the shredded, worried remains of the tissue he’d taken into the trash.  “Well, you haven’t missed much.  Except Thanksgiving.”

“How long?” Steve whispered, more than a little afraid of the answer.  He’d never been hurt this badly before, but he’d regained consciousness plenty of times in the hospital or in SHIELD’s medical facilities after a battle.  This was always his concern.  It wasn’t rational, but he could never shake the feeling that he’d missed years again.  Or decades.  That he’d woken up in the future with nothing and no one he recognized.  The disorientation was nerve-wracking to say the least.  But Tony was there, and the rest of the team, so unless he was dreaming…

“The fight at the airport was a little more than two weeks ago,” Tony answered, watching him carefully for signs of distress like he wasn’t sure how Steve would take the news.  “You spent most of that in the ICU and in hyperbaric treatment.  You got your new accommodations here in the ‘not so close to death’ section of the hospital yesterday.”

That didn’t seem so bad.  Tony glanced around.  “Fury wanted you transferred to SHIELD’s medical ward, but Bruce didn’t think you’d survive the trip.  So here you stayed.  It actually hasn’t been so bad.  It helps when you’re rich.  Oh, and all of this?  Yeah, apparently quite a few people got videos of you holding up the wreckage and me getting those people to safety.  Someone posted it to YouTube and, well, if Fury wanted some positive PR, he got it.  In a big way.  Once Fury realized you weren’t going to kick the bucket, this whole nightmare turned into a rip-roaring success.”  There was bitterness in Tony’s voice, and Steve got the distinct impression that the already strained relationship between SHIELD and the Avengers was now on the verge of complete collapse.  He didn’t know what to say to that (or what to think, really).  He didn’t know if he cared.

There was a soft knock at the door.  The blinds on it rattled as it was pushed open.  “Can I come in?”  It was Pepper.  She barely poked her head inside the room.  When she saw Steve awake, she gasped on a sob and started to cry in relief.  But she smiled.  “If you’re feeling up for a visitor, I have someone who really wants to see you.”

A jolt of energy washed warmly over Steve, and he pushed himself up further with a wince.  “Here.  Hold on.”  Tony was standing again, inclining the bed further and adjusting the pillows behind Steve’s back for better support and the blankets around him.  Pepper came inside, and she had Sarah.  Sarah was dressed in a pale blue outfit with white snowflakes on it.  Steve watched, exhilarated and terrified and worried all at once, as Pepper took slow and wary steps closer.  Sarah was looking around like she didn’t know what this place was.  She didn’t, of course.  Why would she?  How _could_ she?  She couldn’t understand what had happened to him.  Just in two weeks she looked different to him, the dirty blond curls atop her head thicker than Steve remembered, the blue of her eyes deeper.  She finally settled her gaze on him, and there it stayed.  It was like she was searching him, trying to match this bruised, burned, broken person in front of her with the one she remembered.  Steve didn’t know how to feel.  He never wanted anything so much as to hold her, but he was afraid now in a way he hadn’t been before.  She wasn’t the only one who was different.

Sarah never looked away as Pepper brought her closer.  Steve wasn’t strong enough to do more than raise his shaking arms toward her, arms wrapped in bandages.  Tony shared a worried look with Pepper.  “You sure?” Pepper asked.

Steve didn’t trust his voice, so he only nodded.  Pepper hesitated a moment more, probably worried that Steve wasn’t ready.  That Sarah might hurt him or be too much for him.  Honestly, some part of Steve was worried about that, too.  Still, she handed Sarah’s calm form to her father.

Steve couldn’t keep a shuddering sigh inside him.  The simple act of feeling her little body in his arms was comforting in a way he could have never imagined.  He hadn’t even hoped for it or expected it.  It just _happened_ , and now that he had his daughter with him again, he felt so relieved, so grateful to be alive and with her, that he could only blink back his tears.  He didn’t succeed, a ragged scrape of a sob bursting from his lips.  “You okay?” Tony asked. 

Pepper set her hand to Steve’s shoulder, wiping at her eyes.  “Steve?”

“I’m okay,” he whispered.  He was.  He was alive.  He’d heal.  The pain didn’t matter.  The damage done to him didn’t matter.  She was okay, and so was he.  He buried his face into the soft skin of her cheek and just breathed.

* * *

Since he missed Thanksgiving, Tony brought him turkey.  And mashed potatoes and stuffing and all the trimmings and fixings.  He even had apple and pumpkin pie, freshly baked and steaming.  The inventor promptly disregarded Bruce’s requests for a liquid diet, for gently and slowly reintroducing regular foods to Steve’s system, claiming Bruce was being a worry wart and that their team deserved to have their missed dinner.  Faced with that logic and the veritable feast Tony had had delivered to Steve’s hospital room, Bruce had no choice but to agree, though he did with a roll of his eyes and a long-suffering shake of his head.  The team gathered for this little impromptu celebration, and plastic plates loaded with food were dispensed and beverages distributed.  Without request, Clint rolled a little table close to Steve’s bed and cut up his food for him.  He stayed close by, generally helping Steve eat considering both of his hands were still too tightly bandaged to be functional.  It was a little embarrassing, but nobody said a thing, so Steve decided to not let it bother him and embrace the fact that he was awake and mostly free from pain and they were all together.  And it felt good to eat something, even if it was being fed to him.

Talk turned to other matters.  The fall-out of the airport attack and the goings-on at SHIELD since then.  Christmas.  Movies coming out and events coming up.  Nobody mentioned anything about Steve’s injuries.  It was all still too close, too tender a wound, for anyone to acknowledge.  Those long days spent fearing and praying for his life and hoping for a miracle.  Steve could see the signs of them, their marks and haunting remains, in their eyes.  And they were all dealing with it in their own ways.  Clint was quiet and stayed close.  Tony was close, too, but loud and rambling and eating with gusto.  Pepper and Jane (who Steve barely knew and felt a tad uncomfortable around considering how terrible he was pretty sure he looked) were sweet but hesitant, watching him with worried eyes and sticking closer to Sarah because she was safe to them.  Bruce was still calm and clinical with everything he did and said, clearly finding comfort in medicine and science.  Thor was quick to launch into a few stories from celebratory feasts on Asgard, animated in his regaling of some friends of his named the Warriors Three and their drinking games.  Everyone listened and laughed.  Sarah spent the meal on Pepper’s lap, having a bottle and then falling asleep.  Steve kept watching her, distracted and disconcerted, yearning to take her back but knowing it wasn’t a good idea.  He could feel how weak he was; it was deep set into his muscles and bones.  He had a long road ahead of him (at least long for him).  And he quickly started to lose the battle with his own pain and fatigue.  The others noticed right away, of course.  After all, this handful of hours was the longest stretch Steve had been awake and cognizant since he’d been hurt, and it wasn’t all going to come back at once.

That was what Bruce said with a comforting smile and warm eyes as the team began to pack up their dinner and leave.  “It’s going to take time, Steve,” he reminded calmly, adjusting Steve’s IV and checking and cleaning the worst of the burns with a team of hospital doctors when the others were outside.  Steve couldn’t make himself look at his injuries; they were hideous.  Dead skin.  Necrotic tissue that needed to be excised, but there was new flesh growing and regenerating right around it.  He could feel how hard the serum was working to replace what he’d lost, how arduously it was trying to knit together his broken bones and repair his damaged organs and replenish his blood and muscles.  When the doctors were done and applying new dressings to his wounds, Bruce offered him a tissue to wipe away his tears.  “I know that hurt.  And I know it looks really bad.  But the serum’s already healing you at a much faster rate than it was.  If things keep going well, you’ll be able to come home in a few days.”

 _Home._ “You have another think coming, though, if you think you’re doing anything other than sleeping and taking it easy for the next, well, _forever,_ ” Tony chided (and not entirely lightly) as he and Pepper came back inside.  “You want me to stay with you?”  Steve fought against the pull of sleep.  And he was in more pain now than he had been before.  There was nothing to be done for it, and he knew that, but he wasn’t looking forward to suffering through it until it settled back down to something more tolerable.  And, honestly, he didn’t want to be alone.  Maybe that was childish and insecure, but that was how he felt.  Still, it wasn’t right of him to ask.  They’d all done enough (way too much) for him already.  Tony didn’t give him a chance to argue.  “I’ll stay.”

Pepper came closer, lowering Sarah’s sleeping form so Steve so he could see her and touch her.  Steve’s heart ached.  “Pepper…” he whispered, not wanting her to leave with the baby.

“I know,” Pepper said.  She had a tender hand for Steve’s head, grabbing him gently and hugging him as carefully as she could with his multitude of injuries.  Sarah was brought close enough that Steve could kiss her.  “It’ll be alright.”

He went to sleep thinking that.  It took sometime before the pain let him, time Tony spent with him, playing a movie on the TV in Steve’s room and chatting his way through it to provide Steve with some distraction.  It worked, and he was able to let go.

It was dark when he opened his eyes, and he did so to the distinct sensation that he was being watched.  It took a moment for his eyes to adjust, for his scattered senses to gather themselves, for his lethargic brain to remind him where he was.  Clearly it was the middle of the night.  Tony was curled up in one of the chairs on the other side of the room, wrapped in one of the blankets and snoring softly.  But if Tony wasn’t watching him, then–

“Steve?”

He blinked a few more times to rid the ghosts of sleep from his vision.  There was a shadowy figure beside the bed, but he recognized it after a few seconds.  It was Natasha.  She was sitting close to him, holding his bandaged hand.  Her eyes were bright pools of blue and green in the dim light, shining despite the darkness.  She was dressed in a leather coat and black pants.  Her hair was gathered into a messy pony tail, and her cheeks were wet.  “Nat?”

She didn’t smile.  Didn’t move.  Didn’t do anything other than lower her gaze to where her fingers were enclosing his.  “I should have been there.  I’m sorry.”

He didn’t answer right away in the long moment that followed because he didn’t understand.  She hadn’t been there at the hospital?  Had she been there?  He couldn’t remember, and he felt incredibly guilty for that.  Or did she mean the fight?  That was probably it.  “Wasn’t anything you could’ve done,” he whispered.

She grunted softly.  “That’s not true, and you know it.  I wasn’t there when the call came in.  I wasn’t _there_.  I just…  I couldn’t stand being in the Tower.  It’s no excuse.”

“Why?”  He heard himself ask the question.  He really hadn’t meant to ask.  But he did want to know.  Suddenly he had to know.  This was the first time he’d seen her, talked with her, in… weeks.  _Months._   Since the mission he’d run with her and Clint right before he’d found out about Sarah.  She deserved his understanding.  If she was going to talk, she deserved him listening. 

Their hushed conversation died, leaving only the sounds of the machines monitoring his vital signs, Tony’s quiet snoring, and Steve’s own heart thumping between his ears.  She hesitated so long that he started to believe she wasn’t going to answer.  However, she did, and she spoke with so much regret and pain.  He’d never heard her like this before.  Natasha was always so strong, so brave, undaunted in the face of the worst of situations.  She was cool, collected.  Flirty and always so in control of herself.  She was never vulnerable, but that was the only way he could think of her right then.  _Vulnerable_.  “When I was part of the Red Room, they enhanced me.  All of us.  They were working to try and reproduce the super soldier serum.  What I got was a watered-down version of yours.”

He knew that.  His thoughts were still pretty unfocused, but he remembered Fury telling him something about that when he’d started working for SHIELD and the Director had partnered Black Widow and Captain America together more often.  What did that have to do with…  “One of the side-effects was sterilization.”  She looked up finally and met his gaze.  In the night, her eyes glowed with unshed tears.  With so much pain.  Her lips twisted in a mockery of a rueful grin.  “I hadn’t thought about it in years.  All of the sudden you’ve got a baby, and it just…  It just hit me, I think.  Took me a few weeks to even make myself admit it.  I can never have what you have.  Ever.”

“Nat…”  He didn’t know what to say.  There was nothing he _could_ say.

“I resented you for asking us to accept her.  I tried not to show it at first, but I couldn’t lie, not even to myself.  I hated you.  It was wrong, and I know it, but I did.  What you did, asking us to have the baby in our lives…  It got to me.”  Her voice was nothing more than a whisper.  As softly spoken as those simple words were, he knew how deeply they reflected her turmoil.  She was Black Widow.  _Nothing_ got to her.  She leaned closer, her thumbs sweeping over the coarseness of the gauze wrapped across his palm.  “You changed _everything._ Who we are.  What we do.  A family…  A baby wasn’t something I even wanted.  I still don’t.  Not really, anyway.”  The sad smile turned more genuine.  “But I guess seeing her made me realize I really did sacrifice something.  Something was taken from me that I can’t get back.  It’s permanent.  It can’t be undone.”   

“I’m sorry,” he whispered.

She nodded.  Her eyes glistened, but the tears didn’t fall free.  “Sometimes you stand where you are and look back on where you were, the choices you’ve made, the roads you’ve walked…  I longed for something different, I guess.  I’d say it’s funny, the way things work out, but it’s not.”  She smiled anyway.  “You mean a lot to me, Steve.  Your friendship.  Your partnership.  All these missions I was doing for Fury…  They were the kind I should have been doing with you.”  It hurt, hearing that.  It brought everything he’d neglected, everything he’d set aside and _sacrificed_ , right to the forefront.  She looked down to where her hands held his.  Her voice dropped to something less than a whisper.  He could barely hear her.  “You’re our captain.  You’re one of the reasons I can do this, be a part of the team.  Having you go down a different road, one I can’t follow, it just…  It scared me.  Can’t believe I’m actually saying that.”  Neither could he.  “But it’s not right of me to punish you for things outside your control.  You’re just trying to do what’s right, and I need to learn to accept it.  Some things were sacrificed without my choice, but I can choose this.  And I don’t want to sacrifice you.”

He didn’t know what to say.  He had a chance to talk, a silent moment that dragged on for a while, but he didn’t know what he could possibly say.  Natasha’s smile turned softer, more genuine.  She set his hand down and stood, leaning over his bed.  “Get better, Cap.  And when you come home, I’ll be there.”  She kissed his forehead before gathering up her composure and slipping from his room.

Steve lay there, unsettled, hurting in a way that had nothing to do with his injuries.  It took a long, long time for him to fall asleep again, the ghost of Natasha’s words haunting him well after he finally closed his eyes.

* * *

Bruce was true to his promise, and Steve came home from the hospital three days later.  It was both joyous and strenuous.  Everyone was elated and so very relieved to have him home, but he was still badly hurt and required aid in doing pretty much everything.  Standing.  Walking.  Dressing.  He was on crutches because of his leg, and even hobbling around between his floor and common areas was too much at times.  He was weak and constantly in varying levels of pain and easily exhausted.  Taking care of Sarah was out of the question.  He could hold her, but Pepper was the one giving the baby her bottles and changing her and bathing her and taking care of her at night.  That really bothered him, more than he was trying to let on (and he knew his mood hadn’t exactly been great the last few days).  Bruce and Tony in particular were with him a lot, especially in the first couple of days.  His wounds still required care that he couldn’t give them, cleansing and having the bandages routinely changed, and Bruce was methodical and practical as he went about it.  Things were healing at a rapid rate now, and it was uncomfortable.  And draining.  And _itchy._   He was hungry all the time, tired all the time, sore _all the time._   The others were always quick to help and take his mind from it all.  But a few days into his convalescence and he was pretty well frustrated with how much of an invalid he was.

Christmas was coming.  Pepper hadn’t done a thing to prepare the Tower while Steve had been in the hospital, so she was rushing to have the decorators come in before the holiday.  That was something, at least, something to distract him from being so miserable.  One night a week before Christmas he sat in the living room with Sarah on his lap, watching as Pepper decorated the huge tree they’d had delivered earlier that day.  Steve still couldn’t get over Christmas in this time period.  When he’d been a kid, there’d been so little in terms of fine food and presents and decorations.  Now everything was extravagant, all twinkling lights and shining stars and elaborate designs.  It was bedazzling and a little mind-numbing.  Tony was begrudgingly helping Pepper by handing her ornaments while he nursed a Scotch, griping about her wasting her time when they could have simply paid someone to do this or bought the tree pre-decorated.  Pepper countered that even if he hated Christmas, not everyone else did, and traditions were important.  They’d traded jabs about Christmas last year in Malibu that had featured a giant bunny (Steve had a feeling he didn’t want to know) and a whole lot of disaster.  Sarah squealed a little as Thor scooped her out of Steve’s arms and went over to the tree, holding her close to it so she could almost touch the tinsel.  She tried, the little, chubby fingers of one hand tangled in Thor’s hair and while the other reached toward the tree.  The demigod laughed, commenting about this strange Midgardian holiday and its traditions of singing (which was silly, unless the songs were about battle), eating (which he could get behind, of course) and gifts delivered by an overweight old man in a red suit (which made no sense – furthermore, without magic to alter the flow of time and space, there was simply no way a single man could deliver gifts to _every_ child in the world in the span of one night).  Clint told him to stuff it because there were children present and Santa could not be questioned around young ears.  And Natasha brought Steve a blanket and a mug of cocoa and settled close beside him on the couch, watching him with eyes that still shone with a touch of worry.

“Well, this is nice,” Bruce commented.  As always, he seemed a little reticent at first, but as the evening went on he became thoroughly relaxed, a cup of coffee clasped in his hands.  “Having everyone here.  Home and healthy.”  He smiled and lifted his mug to the team.  “Cheers to that.”

Each of them agreed, toasting Bruce’s words with a raised glass.  Steve didn’t.  He sat, the warmth of the mug in his newly healed hands not seeping into his skin, not getting to the chill in his bones or the ache in his heart.  He stared at Sarah in Thor’s arms, watching her watch the demigod with enjoyment in her eyes.  The night was pleasant and filled with friendship and hope for the future, but _none_ of it reached him.

Later that night after a gourmet dinner and a round of chatting and video games in the lounge, he wanted to take Sarah alone.  Bruce advised against it, so Pepper helped him back to his room.  She was silent and steadfast, letting Steve take the reins but standing closely by in case he needed her assistance.  They didn’t talk as they changed Sarah from her little holiday dress to a fleece sleeper.  Steve limped to the glider and set his crutches down against the ottoman before taking Sarah in his arms.  “I’ll get the bottle,” Pepper said, a hand lingering on Steve’s shoulder before she left.  Steve stared at Sarah.  She squirmed in his lap, anxious for her last meal of the day, anxious for bed.  It was later than normal, and she was cranky, spitting out her pacifier as she mouthed for her bottle.  He shushed her softly, holding her tightly and rocking as they both waited.  Pepper came back with the bottle, helping Steve get Sarah situated like she was still a newborn and like Steve had never done this before.  “You sure you don’t want me to stay?” she asked softly, making no effort at hiding her concern.

Steve nodded.  “It’s fine,” he said.  He was starting to realize he said that a lot when it wasn’t fine at all.

She smiled and dimmed the lights before reluctantly leaving.  Steve sighed wearily, shifting Sarah a little so she wasn’t resting so much against a tender spot in his chest, and rocking as she drank.  She looked up at him with tired blue eyes, furling and unfurling her hand in his shirt.  To her, it was almost like he’d never been gone.  She looked at him the same way, with the same dependence and adoration.  Steve rubbed his thumb through the silkiness of her hair, trying not to think, not to feel, but it was coming and he knew it.  The distance.  The sad realization.  This thing he’d been trying to deny for days (for _weeks_ if he was honest).  It had been plaguing him since coming home, since waking up in the hospital.  It had been creeping up on him, and he’d _known_ it was there but he’d been too scared to address it.  Now it was close, as close as she was to him.  Heavy like the night.  Miserable like his healing skin and aching like his damaged bones.  Constricting like the pain.  He rocked her much longer than he needed to.  She fell asleep a few sucks into her bottle, but he kept going, trying to force something else to come, something that wasn’t coming.  Certainty.  Security.  It wasn’t coming.

Eventually he stood and limped over to her crib.  He brought her close, kissing her forehead before laying her in her bed and tucking her in.  He stood watching her a long time.  Then he went to bed himself, where he tossed and turned, unable to clear his mind, unable to get comfortable.  Unable to find peace.  His fatigue won out over his restlessness after a while, and he fell asleep without realizing it.  But his mind kept going.  _“You can’t keep her.  You’re Captain America.  You’re an Avenger.  You’re a SHIELD agent.  There’s no room for a kid in any of that.”_

_“She’s my daughter.”_

Voices through the haze.  _“Think with your head, not with your heart.”_  

_“Don’t make a mistake.”_

Loud and insistent.  _“She’s not a mistake!”_

Thrumming.  _“Whatever happens, you know you’re not alone in this.  We’re with you.”_

_“You’ll figure it out.  If anyone can, it’s you.”_

Uncertain.  _“What’s the right thing?”_

_“Whatever you feel is right.  You’re her father.”_

_“It’s only natural to want to protect her.  We want what’s best for her, what’s best for you.”_

_“You’re letting your emotions cloud your judgment.”_

_“Do what is in your heart.”_

_“There’s a way to make this work.”_

_“I wish it was that simple.”_

_“You can’t do this to the team.  We need you.”_   So much pain.  Tony’s.  _“I thought we were going to lose you.”_

Thor’s.  _“I’m with you.  We’re all with you.”_

Clint’s.  _“Don’t leave us, Cap.  Can’t do this without you.”_

Natasha’s.  _“Having you go down a different road, one I can’t follow, it just…  It scared me.”_

His.  _“You’re making me choose.  I can’t just give her up!  I can’t!  It’s not right!”_

Was there anything right anymore?  Had it ever been?  _“Don’t worry.  We’re in this together.  You and me.”_

He awoke with a gasp, sitting up before he remembered to be careful.  Once he got through the pain, he swung his good leg to the floor and caught his breath.  “JARVIS?  What time is it?” he rasped, rubbing his eyes.

“12:03 in the morning, sir,” the AI responded.  “You seem to be in distress.  Shall I call Doctor Banner or Mr. Stark?”

“No,” Steve grunted out.  “Sarah sleeping?”

“Soundly.”

“Where’s…  Where’s Tony?  Is he still awake?”

“Mr. Stark is in his workshop.”  Steve was up before he thought better of it.  He wasn’t thinking at all, actually.  He grabbed his crutches and pushed himself onto his feet.  He was stumbling through his suite toward the elevator.  Without instruction, JARVIS took him to Tony’s workshop and let him inside.  It was dark with only a few lights on in the rear where Tony was working.  Some sort of rock music was playing, but not blaring like it normally was maybe out of respect for the lateness of the hour.  Steve made his way inside, weaving through the workbenches and the clutter of equipment and half-finished projects.  Propped up against one of the stools was his shield.  He saw it as he passed, and it was scuffed and scorched so badly it was nearly black.  The star and stripes were burned away.  Obviously Tony hadn’t gotten around to working on it.  He averted his gaze.

“Steve?”  Tony moved from behind one of his desks.  He turned off his blow torch and set it down before pulling his face mask away.  Soot and sweat covered his cheeks.  “What are you doing here?”  He wiped his hands a rag and came around the end of the table quickly, reaching for a rolling chair and dragging it toward Steve.  “Here.  Sit.  You look like you’re about to keel over, and the only one allowed to pass out in my workshop is me.”

Steve grimaced, realizing he’d been pretty foolish coming all this way as bad off as he was.  Tony let him catch his breath.  He walked over to a mini-fridge (really not all that miniature) and came back with a bottle of water, unscrewing the cap and handing it to Steve.  “Thanks,” Steve said softly.  He took a sip.

“Can’t sleep?” Tony asked.

Steve shook his head.  He looked down at his hands.  His skin was still scarred in some places, but the lines and marks and welts were fading.  He fidgeted uncharacteristically.  “I, uh…  I wanted to ask you something.”

Tony nodded, realizing this was something serious, and leaned back into the lab bench behind him.  “JARVIS, can the music,” he ordered, and the song turned off.  Tony appraised Steve evenly.  “You sure you don’t want to talk about it in the morning?”

Steve winced, taking another drink of water, and shook his head.  “It has to be now.”

“Okay.  Shoot.”

Steve sighed slowly.  He felt himself deflate, felt the pain and that feeling of uncomfortable helplessness skirt on the edge of his heart.  It took a long moment for him to drum up his courage.  To gather his thoughts.  To muster up some strength.  “I’ve been thinking,” he finally said.  “Since I got hurt, I just…  I’ve been thinking that you’re right.”

Tony seemed a tad surprised, but he schooled his features easily enough.  “I’m right?”

God, this was hard.  He felt so many things.  Betrayal.  Anger.  Grief.  Disappointment.  “You are,” he said in a hoarse voice.  “I can’t…  I can’t be what she needs.  She deserves a real family with real parents.  A normal life.  She’s never gonna have that with me.”

“Steve–”

“I see that now.  I was so damn… _blind_.  I pushed Natasha away.  I pushed _you_ away.  I wanted something I can’t have, and I refused to see anything else.  I was being selfish.  And a coward, I think.”

“No, Steve, that’s not–”

He had to keep going.  Get it all out.  “I can’t make Sarah bear this burden with me.  It’s not fair to her.  It’s not fair to you guys.”  Steve looked down at his hands again, taking a deep breath to try and hold his voice steady.  It wasn’t working, and inhaling deeply made his chest hurt and feel very tight.  Tony didn’t say anything.  Steve could feel his eyes on him.  His own emotions were so jumbled and fraught with uncertainty that he couldn’t even try to discern Tony’s.  “I wanted to do what was right, but what I wanted…  It’s not…”  He shook his head.  He couldn’t find the words to say what he wanted to say.  “She didn’t choose this life.  And she has a way out of it right now that she won’t ever have again.  I can’t take that away from her.  I realized somewhere back in that hospital that I don’t want this for her.  All this danger and fear and worry.  Never knowing when I’m leaving or if I’ll come back okay.  I saw what me getting hurt did to you guys, how it tore you down.  I can’t do that to her.  I can’t.  What kind of father does that to his daughter?”

“You’re a good father, Steve,” Tony said genuinely.  “Better than I ever could be.”

Steve wasn’t convinced.  “This time she doesn’t know enough to be hurt by what happened, but you’re right.  She will.  And there will be other times.”  He swallowed the knot in his throat.  “And even if I gave up being Captain America, resigned from SHIELD…”  His voice dropped to a strained murmur.  “Even if I ran away and gave up everything I do, she’d never be safe.  The people in the world who want to stop us from fighting evil… they won’t give up just because I do.  I can’t just turn off who I am.  And I can’t expose her to that.  It’s not right.  I have to let her go.”

Tony was motionless, watching him carefully, his brow crinkled in worry.  Steve sniffled.  He’d never felt so low, so _defeated_.  So wrong.  So lost.  “So, yeah…  I wanted to ask you if you still had that list you put together.”

The silence that came was rife with pain.  Steve couldn’t make himself meet Tony’s gaze.  He waited in the quiet, uncomfortable still, his skin crawling with cold sweat and his heart pounding and his stomach tight.  He wished Tony would just say something.  Anything.  “Steve, are you sure about this?”

Except that.  “No.”  He couldn’t lie.  “No, I’m not.  But I wouldn’t be here asking if I didn’t mean it.”  Tony stared at him.  The weight of his friend’s eyes on him felt monumental and completely unbearable.  “I can’t be her father, Tony.  She deserves better than what I can give her.”

“That’s not the way to think about it,” Tony gently reprimanded.

Steve didn’t care.  It was the only way he could think about it now.  “I need your help,” he said softly, almost pleadingly.

Tony nodded.  “Anything.  Tell me what you want.”

Steve almost couldn’t make himself say it.  He focused on his love for Sarah, on doing what was right for her, and found some courage.  He finally looked up and straight into Tony’s eyes.  “I need you to take care of this.”

“Sure,” Tony said after a beat.  If he was relieved by Steve’s decision, he was doing an admirable job of hiding it.  He nodded slowly.  “Sure, I can do that.  I can do anything you want.  You want to go through the list?”

“No,” Steve said quickly, shaking his head emphatically.  “No.  No.  I don’t think I can.  I don’t think…  I can’t.  I know that makes me a coward, or worse, but I just…”  His eyes burned.  “I can’t.  I’m afraid I’ll change my mind.  Find a reason to not go through with it.”

“You trust me to…”

“Yes.”  Tony seemed a bit surprised and even more touched by that.  Steve sighed, his breath shivering with the effort he was putting forth in holding himself together.  “Just… do it fast.  _Please._   I can’t – I’ll–”

“Don’t worry.”

“And make sure they’d good enough for her.  That they’ll cherish her.”  His voice broke on that.

Tony moved quickly, dropping to a crouch in front of Steve and hugging him tight.  Steve’s cry was cut-off and muffled into his shoulder.  “You’re doing the right thing,” he promised into Steve’s ear.  “You know that?  And it’s alright.  I promise you it will be.”

“Hurts, Tony.”  That was all Steve could say.

“I know.  But you’re doing the _right thing._   The best you can for her.”  Tony squeezed him as he shivered.  Steve didn’t have the strength or energy to do much other than lean into Tony for a while, fighting a losing war to hold himself together.  After the silence turned lengthy and desperate, Tony pulled away.  “Come on,” he said.  “Let’s get you back to bed.”

“No,” Steve returned quickly, wiping a hand roughly across his eyes to brush away the wetness.  “No.  I’m fine.”

“Steve…”

“Thanks.”

He didn’t remember saying goodnight.  He didn’t remember trying to get himself out of the chair or Tony watching him with blatant worry and grief splayed across his face.  He didn’t remember limping back to his room or JARVIS asking him if he was alright.  He didn’t even remember walking into the nursery or staring down at Sarah’s sleeping form.  He just found himself there.  She was on her tummy, and her face was so content and angelic.  He wanted to touch her.  He wanted to hold her.  He wanted to, but he didn’t.  He couldn’t.

And he finally, _finally_ lost it.

_I don’t want to do this.  It isn’t fair.  I don’t want to let her go.  She’s my daughter.  She’s my daughter!  I can’t do this!  It isn’t fair!_

He barely made it to his bed before the sob ripped its way from his throat.  The tears came, hot and burning like acid, and he clenched the mattress as he sat on it, clenched hard and shook harder and even still fought the onslaught of pain.  But he wasn’t strong enough.  Not faced with the choice he’d had to make.  Not faced with the truth.  And not after what had happened.

He cried long and hard and in a way he hadn’t in years, maybe ever.  There was so much tied up into this.  Losing so much.  The fear of losing more.  There was snow softly falling outside, and the lights from the city bathed the room in an ethereal glow.  But the peace was all a lie, and inside his heart, Steve hated himself for failing to be what he needed to be on all fronts.  Failing Sarah.  Failing the team.  Failing himself.  Giving her away wasn’t the right choice, maybe, but it was the best choice.  The _only_ choice because he never, _ever_ wanted to see his daughter crying over him like the Avengers had.  He never wanted her to know that kind of fear and pain, never wanted her to suffer through that kind of devastation.  Not over him or any of them.  And if that meant he couldn’t be a part of her life, then that was what it meant.  If that meant letting her go, then he would let her go, no matter how hard it was and how much it hurt.  Her safety and happiness was worth everything.  She was a normal girl who deserved a normal, wonderful life filled with stability and comfort and freedom.  He was Captain America.  He lived in chaos and danger.  He could never escape that, and he couldn’t be anything else.

And Sarah would never remember.  Tony was right about that, too.  Even if it was some placating excuse, Steve couldn’t stop finding some small shred of comfort in it.  She’d never remember these few short months he’d taken care of her.  She’d never know that her father, her _real_ father, gave her up or why.  She’d be loved and protected by the family they’d find for her.  She’d be fine.  The only person who would be hurt was him.  And he could live with that.

At least he thought he could.


	10. Chapter 10

Tony decided on a nice couple that lived in western New York.  The husband was senior computer programmer at one of the major telecom corporations in the area.  The wife was a teacher in a local elementary school, but she was prepared to quit her job to raise a child fulltime.  He was from New York City.  She was from Minneapolis.  They’d met in college, apparently, and had been together for nearly ten years, married for six.  They were still young but well established, with plenty of their own money and with family close by.  They’d passed every check Tony and JARVIS had made, background and criminal and financial.  And they wanted a baby badly, having tried unsuccessfully for years to get pregnant and having tried for almost as long to get a child through adoption.  They seemed perfect, sweet and loving, eager to give a child – _their_ child – everything they could.  They seemed wonderful and loving and _normal._

Steve found it hard to think about.  Perhaps that was only natural, or perhaps he was just being weak, but he really didn’t want to be involved.  Beyond knowing they were good people, he wasn’t interested in learning more.  It was selfish, he supposed, but he was angry.  And he was hurt.  And he was a dozen other things that kept shifting and changing and twisting around inside him.  He focused on apathy, because that seemed to be the only shield he had against the maelstrom of emotions battering him.  The others all regarded with concern in their eyes.  What they thought of his decision they kept to themselves, even Thor (and Steve had not expected that sort of consideration from Thor given how much he loved Sarah and how vocal he was about his opinions).  If they were relieved or happy about it, they didn’t show it.  If they thought he was being stupid or foolish, they didn’t say.  He was simultaneously comforted and bothered by it.  He didn’t think he could stand anyone else’s opinions of his decision because he could hardly stand his own.  But, on the flip side, they were all trying to pretend this was okay when it wasn’t.  It wasn’t okay.  And he wanted someone to make him change his mind.  He wanted someone to stand up for what he really wanted, to tell him he was being ridiculous.  He wanted more than just tender smiles and thoughtful touches and compassionate promises that it would be okay.  _It wasn’t okay._

He was making himself believe it would be.  That it could be, once he got past this.  That this angry, gaping hole in his chest where his heart used to be would heal up just like his skin had healed from the burns and his bones had healed from the breaks.  He made himself think this was right, that all the logic in which he’d believed the last couple of days was still true.  This was for the best.  She belonged somewhere safe, somewhere where she could have a chance at a normal life with normal parents and a normal family.  She didn’t belong with him.  He couldn’t be her father.  He couldn’t.

He kept telling himself that.

He kept _trying_ to tell himself that.

And he kept going through the motions, acting like he was fine when he was anything but.  His wounds were mostly healed, tender still but nearly free of the bandages.  He was off the crutches and into a walking cast.  His strength and stamina were returning in bits and pieces.  He felt almost like himself.  The worst of his recovery was behind him.  But he was dying inside.  Apathy was a good shield, and he wielded it like a professional with aplomb and expertise that would have made Natasha proud if she knew the extent of how much he was lying to all of them.  Nobody talked about him giving Sarah up, so that made it easier.  It was looming over them all, hiding in the subtext of everything, but no one directly addressed it out of fear of upsetting him.  Instead they tried to take his mind off it, to pretend everything was normal.  _It’s not normal._   _It’s not okay._   Conversations were about everything but the baby.  The outpour of support for the Avengers in the wake of the attack at LaGuardia.  The holidays.  Football.  SHIELD.  _Anything_ but Sarah.  It was like she was already gone, in a way.  She was already gone from him.

But it was only _like_ that.  She was still there, and Steve moved through it all in a daze, desperate for it to just end.  Again, maybe that was cowardly and selfish, but that was how he felt.  If this was how it had to end, he wanted it over.  This was like torture.  Diapers and bottles and sleepers.  Baths and rocking and trying not to think, trying not to feel.  Taking care of her, but with distance now.  Loving her but trying so hard not to let himself _feel_ it.  He couldn’t stand to kiss her or play with her or talk to her like he had.  Holding her close was equal parts painful and wonderful.  She wasn’t his anymore.  _It’s not fair.  It’s not okay._ Seconds dragged to minutes.  Minutes to hours.  And even though it had only been a couple of days since he’d gone to Tony, he felt infinitely older and more worn for the time.  Brittle and fragile and teetering.  He wanted so desperately for it to just be over, the burden of it all too much to bear.

Still, when the time came for him to give her up, he wasn’t ready.  It was two days before Christmas, and Tony had made arrangements to fly to Buffalo with Pepper and Sarah.  They were going to meet Sarah’s prospective parents.  Apparently he’d had his lawyers begin the legal proceedings, but Tony wasn’t satisfied (of course) with anyone’s assurance that everything was in order.  He was going to make sure himself under the strictest of confidentiality.  He’d told Steve all of this after dinner the night before, swearing up and down that these people would never learn of Steve’s identity.  If Tony felt comfortable (not just comfortable, as he put it – completely and unwaveringly _certain_ ) about what he saw, he was going to leave Sarah with them and make plans to return to check on the new family right after the holiday.  Stark Industries security would be there as well, managed by Happy, to ensure that everything was okay.  Tony didn’t want to chance any information leaking, so the new parents didn’t know what was coming.  This was going to be done quickly to prevent the media from getting involved.  Tony had asked Steve if he wanted to come, and he’d only shaken his head.  He wanted to know if Steve wanted to have any contact with Sarah because he thought he could arrange something and still maintain Steve’s privacy, but Steve had quickly decided against that, too.  It was too risky, and there was no sense in disrupting the baby’s life after this.  It was safer for everyone involved if she (and her new family) never met him.  Tony had nodded, his face pinched with a desperate wish to make this better for his friend.  He called Sarah a gift to them, a gift beyond compare.

That didn’t make it any better.  _It’s not okay.  It’s never going to be okay._

The day that they were leaving started with Sarah crying in her crib for him.  He was lying in bed, having hardly slept the night before.  He was sore and exhausted.  And he didn’t want to do this.  He didn’t want to take care of her.  He didn’t want to see her.  He wasn’t strong enough.  But he found that numbness inside him, sufficient to smother his guilt and pain, and he got to his feet and stumbled to her nursery.  She was wailing in her crib, ready for her bottle, for a clean diaper and a new day.  He donned the best fake smile he could manage and picked her up.  He changed her.  Dressed her.  Got a bottle from the kitchen.  Sat in the glider and watched her drink.  He wasn’t seeing her anymore, even as she stared at him and calmed instantly at his touch.  To her, this was any other day.  To him…  He couldn’t make himself think about it.

When she was finished, he took her into his bedroom and placed her in her little bouncy seat while he showered and got dressed himself.  He watched her play with the dangling toys, listened to her make little sounds and murmurs to herself.  He took much longer than normal because the simple acts of brushing his teeth and combing his hair and shaving and figuring out what to wear were too much.  He felt like he was moving through molasses, frozen inside all over again.  She giggled once, and his eyes burned.  She kicked and squirmed and flung her hands out toward her toys, and he couldn’t breathe.  This was horrible.  _Don’t do it.  Change your mind.  Change your mind._

He couldn’t.  If he gave in now…  He couldn’t give in.  This was what was best.

Eventually he finished getting ready.  He looked at the clock beside his bed.  It was almost nine.  Tony and Pepper were leaving in thirty minutes.  He needed to get moving.  He found her favorite blanket and stuffed rabbit in her crib.  He grabbed her pacifier and her jacket and hat.  Then he crouched in front of her.  “Time to go, baby girl,” he whispered.  She smiled at him, spit bubbling on her lower lip and rolling down her chin.  He wiped it away with a tissue.  His hand lingered on her face.  He looked at her, really and truly, for the first time what felt like a long time.  He still saw his mother, but now it was so much more.  Sarah was a person all herself, and she was beautiful.  He jabbed his teeth into his lower lip, swallowing down a sob.  “It’s gonna be okay, you know?  I swear it will be.”  Sarah looked at him, squirming in her seat for him to pick her up and cooing in response.  “These people…  They’re real nice.  Tony would only pick the best for you.  You know how he is.  Everything is always the best.  So they’re going to take really good care of you.  I promise.”

He didn’t know who he was promising more, himself or her.  She couldn’t understand what he was saying.  She couldn’t understand the waver of his voice or the tears in his eyes.  She was so little, so young.  He was struck anew by how much she’d grown in his presence, how much she had changed in this short time.  It was really a gift he’d been given, to be a part of that.  An honor.  “You won’t remember me,” he said softly, “but I’ll always remember you.  And I’ll always love you.  No matter what, I’ll keep you in my heart.”  That was too much, and his voice died in his throat as he fumbled with the straps of the little seat and pulled her free.  He crushed her into his arms, squeezing as tightly as he dared, closing his eyes and breathing as deeply as he could.  Doing everything in his power to stay together, to stay strong.  _Feeling_ everything about this moment, the last they could share.  It seemed to go on forever.  But it didn’t.  Steve forced his eyes open and the air from his lungs and the tension from his body.  Then he stood, wavering, faltering, _forcing_ himself to go on.  He held Sarah against his shoulder with one arm, his hand on her back and head, as he laid her jacket down on his bed.  Somehow he got her into it.  Somehow he got her pacifier in her mouth and her blanket snug around her.  Somehow.

And somehow he made it out to the common room.

Tony and Pepper were waiting.  As was Thor.  Steve heaved a sigh seeing them, and his legs abruptly stopped working.  He stared at them and they stared at him.  Then he came closer.

Thor was quick to lay his huge hand on Sarah’s head where it was peaking over Steve’s shoulder.  His face was sad, lax with unhappiness and regret.  “You have touched my life, little one, however briefly,” he said softly.  Steve closed his eyes.  Thor’s fingers stroked Sarah’s hair, and then he leaned down to offer her a quick kiss.  “Be at peace wherever you find yourself.”

Thor moved away after dropping his hand to Steve’s shoulder.  Steve struggled for a deep breath.  He saw Tony and Pepper in front of him.  Watching him.  Waiting.  Tony was carrying Sarah’s car seat and their bags.  Pepper had the diaper bag.  This was it.  _It’s not fair.  It’s not okay.  It’s not okay!_

Steve gasped a quiet sob and turned away.  “Just…  I need a minute.”

“Sure,” Tony said, his voice hoarse and a mere shade of its normal confidence.

Steve rubbed his hand down Sarah’s back, fighting and fighting against the stinging on his eyes and the lump lodged in his throat.  He felt himself shaking.  His heart was shuddering, pounding, _breaking._   It took him more than a minute to make himself pull her away from his shoulder.  Cradled in his arms, she stared right at him, sucking on her pacifier.  He tried to breathe.  _It’s okay.  Let her go.  You have to._

_It’s time._

Sarah cooed again and smiled at him behind her pacifier, and he almost his nerve.  But he didn’t.  He glanced up at Pepper, and that was the only sign she needed to come closer.  Pepper’s eyes were misty, but she was holding herself together for Steve’s sake.  Her hand slid up to his shoulder.  “Come here, sweetheart,” she said softly, slowly pulling Sarah from Steve’s arms.  The baby went, wrapped up in her blanket.  Steve dropped his hands away, his face crumpling into a pained frown, as he watched Pepper take the baby back over to Tony.

He didn’t really remember the rest.  Tony said something.  A promise to call, to make sure everything went well.  A promise that he didn’t need to worry.  They left.

Steve stood still, aching in a way he never had before.  He watched down the hallway where Tony and Pepper had walked into the elevator.  The doors were long shut.  They were long gone.  But still he watched.

His mind finally registered other things.  The rest of the room.  The strange silence of the Tower.  Thor was there.  He slid an arm around Steve’s shoulders and forcefully tugged him closer into half a hug.  Steve finally released the breath he’d been holding, patting Thor just to make him let go.  He turned and walked away, hating himself and hurting.

* * *

He wasn’t sure of much after that.  What was going on.  How much time had passed since they’d left.  Minutes.  Hours.  He’d barely made it back to his room, lost and reeling, and now he was lying on his bed, staring up at the ceiling.  His mind was empty, blessedly and blissfully, like it had completely checked out and shut down.  Everything was distant and hazy.  Memories.  Thoughts.  Regrets and hopes and dreams.  It was all gone.  He was numb in a way that was surprisingly comfortable, pushed beyond suffering, beyond worrying, beyond _anything._   And he was alone.  The door to the nursery was closed.  If everything went well, Pepper would have the movers come to take all of the baby’s clothes and furniture and toys to her new home.  And she would have the builders come to put everything in his suite back the way it was.  Like it had never been changed.  Just like his body was healing completely from his injuries without a mark or scar by which to remember them, all evidence of Sarah’s existence would be erased.

But not in his mind or his heart.  Maybe, in time, he could get over this.  The pain wouldn’t be so sharp.  The absence.  The emptiness.  In time, he could heal the rest of himself.  Until then, he’d find a way to get through it.  Not thinking.  Not feeling.  Just taking things a step at time.  It was funny in a way, all the huge changes through which he’d gone in his life.  Sarah was perhaps the smallest, at least compared to becoming Captain America and waking up in the future, but her effect was, in a way, the most profound.  As short as it had been, it had changed him forever.  He wasn’t going to just get over that.  He felt fundamentally different, like the world seemed off-center or something of the like, like he couldn’t see things as he had or be who he had been.  That was going to take some adjustment.  Thinking about the future was too much.  Tonight.  Tomorrow.  All the days that would follow.  Right now, he just wanted to grieve.

No, not grieve.  He just wanted to sleep.

There was a knock at his door.  “Cap?”  It was Clint’s voice.  “Okay if we come in?”

Steve really didn’t want company.  He just wanted to get through this, to drift through it.  He considered ignoring the question, closing his eyes and rolling over and pretending to be dead to the world.  As dead as he felt.  But that wasn’t right, so he sat up gingerly, scrubbing his hand down his face to brush away the wetness there.  “Yeah,” he called.

The door opened.  Steve didn’t turn.  Footfalls were light and tentative on the floor, lingering by the door.  There was only silence and hesitation.  Then Clint sighed and walked around the end of Steve’s bed.  “Come on,” he said when he reached Steve’s side.  “We’re going out.”

“What?” Steve said, dazed and not at all in the mood for, well, _anything._

“We’re going _out,_ ” Clint said firmly.  “So get up.  On your feet.”

Steve didn’t want to be rude or petulant, but he didn’t want to go anywhere or do anything.  He knew they were trying to help, that they were worried about him.  Their concern was so strong a force it was nearly tangible slamming into him.  It wasn’t right of him to be annoyed or angry or dismissive, even though part of him frantically wanted to be all three.  Instead, he managed to gather himself enough to look up at Clint.  The archer wasn’t smiling, just staring at him, analyzing him.  “I, uh…”  Steve sighed and turned away almost immediately, averting his gaze to his hands in his lap.  “I’m not feeling up to it.”

“Of course you’re not,” Natasha said from the door.  Steve turned a little to find her leaning against it with her hip, her arms folded across her chest.  “Which is why we need to do it.”

“I know you guys mean well, but I’m okay,” Steve said, hoping his voice sounded as even and sure to them as it did to him.

“Sure you are,” Clint said without a hint of belief in his voice.  “Come on, Rogers.  You are not going to hole up in here and tear yourself apart.  We’re not letting you do it.  We’re going, and you’re coming.  Thor is more than willing to drag you along if he needs to.”

“I am,” Thor agreed.

Steve sighed.  He shook his head, lingering and trapped in his emotions in a way he never had been before.  If this was melancholy, if this was depression, he didn’t like it.  But the energy required to overcome it seemed to be too much.  And it was only an hour or so into losing Sarah ( _you didn’t lose her.  You gave her away_ ).  How would it be later?  He didn’t want to consider it, really.  This wasn’t who he was.  “Where are we going?” he asked more tersely (mostly disgusted at himself), looking at Clint again.

Clint smiled and shrugged.  “Dunno.  Like I said: out.”

Steve grunted half an incredulous laugh.  “Out?”

“Yeah.  You have been stuck in this Tower for way too long, so we are going out.  I already convinced Banner, and you’ve got nothing on him in the hermit department.  So if he’s going, you’re going.  Come on.”

Steve winced.  “I don’t…”

“We know you don’t,” Clint said.  He wasn’t specific.  He didn’t need to be.  He cracked half a soft, understanding smile.  “Come on, Steve.  It’s Christmas in New York.  There’s got to be _something_ worth doing.  We can go to Rockefeller or something.  You ever seen it?”

“Once,” Steve responded, struggling to think past the fog in his head and remember.

“Well, let’s go.  You can experience the futuristic version of it.  And then we can go…”  Clint floundered for a moment.  This really wasn’t his style, to be so involved in mundane activities.  “We can go window shopping or something.  Isn’t that something people do around Christmas?”

Thor’s brow furrowed in confusion and he glanced at Natasha.  “Is it another Midgardian tradition to replace your windows on this holiday?”

“Whatever.  Let’s do that.  And get something to eat.”

Steve eyed him critically.  Even he thought this sounded crazy.  “What about the press?”

“So what if they see us,” Clint answered simply.  “We’ve saved the city enough times.  I think the public owes us an afternoon off.”

Still Steve hesitated.  It didn’t seem right.  Thor sighed and came a little closer.  “Come with us, Steve.  As Clint said, it will do you ill to remain in isolation and stew.”

Steve couldn’t help the small smile that curled his lips at that.  Stewing.  Yeah, that seemed the appropriate term for it.  And it was fairly obvious from the obstinate set of Thor’s impressive form and the adamant glint in Clint’s eyes and the way Natasha was blocking his door that they weren’t going to let this go.  They weren’t going to let him suffer alone in solitude, choking down his grief and despising the way this had turned out and _missing her so damn much_.  They were his teams, his friends and family.  They weren’t going to let him go through this alone.

So he felt himself nod.  And he stood and straightened his clothes slightly.  Clint shared a relieved glance with Thor and Natasha as Steve found his jacket, hat, and gloves.  Then their group was heading out of Steve’s suite toward the elevator.  Bruce was already there waiting.  “Hey,” he greeted softly.  He looked a tad uncomfortable, given the emotional nature of the day, but he still offered Steve a gentle, supportive smile.  “You guys ready?”

They were.  JARVIS summoned the elevator for them.  The doors opened.

Tony was there.  Tony was right there _holding Sarah._

Steve nearly backpedaled in utter shock.  They all did.  Eyes widened.  Hearts stopped.  Tony stared at them and they stared back.  Nobody seemed to know what to make of it.  Sarah looked around, wide-eyed and seemingly perplexed herself.  Tony finally took a small step forward.  He cleared his throat a little, looking decidedly uncomfortable and unsure.  “Yeah, we made it about as far as the tunnel,” he declared.  He sighed and shook his head.  “Then I realized…  This isn’t right.  You’re making a mistake.  We’re _all_ making a mistake.”  He held Sarah out from his chest a little, offering her to Steve.  “Here.”

Steve didn’t understand.  He stared dumbly at the baby.  Then he stared equally as dumbly at Tony.  Tony managed a smile, slow and timid at first, but then brighter and broader.  “Well, she’s yours, isn’t she?  You’re her father.”

He didn’t know what to say.  He didn’t want to trust, to hope, to even entertain the idea that this was real.  He was back in his bed, dreaming with grief thick in his heart.  He was imagining it, like the trauma of it all had driven his mind into some sort of fantasy.  _This wasn’t real._

Tony sighed again, smiling still, his eyes a little wet.  “Who says it can’t work?” he asked.  “There are people everywhere who live difficult lives and still have kids.  Granted, none of them are as extreme as we are, but, well…  We’re the Avengers.  We can do anything.  We’ll find a way.”  He stepped completely out of the elevator, glancing at the rest of the team.  Then his gaze settled on Steve, now sure and strong.  “She’s _your_ daughter, Steve.  Take her, because you’re keeping her.”  Tony’s face slackened as though with a sudden realization, turning tepid with doubt and a touch of remorse.  “Unless…”

“No,” Steve said, his own voice rough with emotion.  He reached out for Sarah, but he stopped himself.  He looked at the team.  Clint, maybe a little hesitant but offering up a grin and a firm nod.  Natasha, her eyes flicking between the baby and Steve before settling on Steve.  She gave a small nod of her own.  Bruce set his hand to Steve’s shoulder and patted it as if to nudge him forward.  Thor was practically beaming, jubilant.

And Tony.  “We’re a family,” he said.  He rolled his eyes a little at his own sentimentality.  “As crazy and sappy as that sounds.  And we can’t do anything normal.  So she fits right in.  Here.”  He came even closer.  “Take her.”

Relief like nothing else rushed over Steve.  He broke out into a huge smile; he just couldn’t help himself.  He opened his arms again, and Tony set Sarah into them.  Steve closed his eyes at the feel of the baby against his chest.  It was such a warm, wondrous thing.  How could he have let this go?  How could he have doubted like that?

But it was alright now.  _It was okay._   It was more than okay.  It was right and true and everything it should be.

Thor grabbed Steve about the shoulders, laughing and shaking him a little.  “Truly we have received a gift of our own on this holiday of yours,” he said, smiling like the sun.  “A blessing.”

“Just call me Santa,” Tony said.  “Without the hat and the fat and the red.”  Tony shrugged a little and amended himself.  “Well, with the red, but a vastly sexier and more awesome version of it.”

“Nice,” Clint quipped, rolling his eyes.

“You know I am,” Tony went on, walking away from the elevator and back toward the common room.  He flopped down on the couch.  “I bring holiday cheer wherever I go.”

“Stark, you _do_ know that Santa Claus actually _likes_ children,” Natasha said, but it was more than obvious she was just teasing.  She was hesitantly reaching toward Sarah, glancing up at Steve as if for his permission.  He nodded, and she set her hand carefully on Sarah’s forehead.  “He has to.  It’s part of the job.”

Tony was doing a poor job of looking miffed.  “I do like children.  And credit where it’s due please.  I held her.”

“For what?  A minute?” Clint said.

“And you looked like you were about ready bolt,” Natasha added.  She grasped Sarah’s tiny hand in hers, curling the baby’s fingers around her own.  She seemed so relaxed.  Finally touching the baby.  Making some peace with herself and her place in this.  It was as though she was realizing there was no reason to be afraid or resentful or worried.  There never had been.  Maybe Steve was reading into it more than he should have, but he couldn’t help himself.  He was feeling all the same things.

“Was not,” Tony returned.  “I carried her all the way up here, didn’t I?  So there.”

Clint shook his head.  “Reluctantly.  And you wouldn’t have done it if you hadn’t had to.”

“Like you’re any better.”

“Never said I was.”  Clint looked at Steve.  He was usually hard to read, but Steve saw the touch of fear but the wealth of determination in his eyes.  “But I’ll learn.”

Tony rolled his eyes.  “Fine.  You guys are all jerks.  Bring her here, Steve.”  He was up off the couch again.  He opened his arms wide in an exaggerated show.  “Come on.  Give her to Uncle Tony.  Uncle Tony is way cooler than Uncle Clint.”

Steve laughed, still a little too shocked to really process what was happening.  He handed Sarah to Tony, who looked freaked out despite his best efforts to hide it.  He held Sarah like he had before, and now it seemed like he didn’t know what to do with her.  But he smiled smugly.  “There.  Held her twice.  I’m great with babies.  I’m…  Gya!”  He thrust Sarah away from him gently, revealing a rather large wet spot on his jacket and shirt.  “What is this!  How…  What…”

Steve was quick to grab her back, wincing and worried that this minor thing would cause this situation to implode and make everyone change their minds, but Clint barked out a laugh and Bruce chuckled and Thor clapped Tony hard enough on the back to make him stumble.  “What is it you Midgardians say?  Ah, yes.  Welcome to the club.”

“But this is Armani,” Tony moaned.  “Armani does not get _peed_ on.”

Bruce actually laughed louder.  “I don’t think she cares, Tony.  I’ll go find a diaper and something else for her to wear,” he offered.

“Something for _her?_ ” Tony sputtered.  “What about for _me?_ ”  He looked down in shock and disgust at his ruined attire.  “What’s the point of a diaper?  Do they even _hold_ anything?  Just…  ugh.” 

“Cease your whining and be thankful it was not the alternative,” Thor said lightly.  “May we handle this, Steve?”

Steve didn’t get that right away.  “What?”

“Changing the babe’s clothing.  I have seen you do it enough that I believe I can manage,” the demigod said, smiling proudly.  “My skill concerning the care of infants has increased exponentially since Sarah has come into our home.  I should be pleased to do this and demonstrate to the rest of you naysayers that I do, indeed, know what I am doing.”

“Sure, you do,” Clint said with mock doubt in his tone.

Thor was already lifting Sarah from Steve’s arms, careful of the wet spot on her front.  “Come along, Hawkeye.  You wished to learn?  Perhaps you can learn from me.”  Then he was heading back down the hallway, Bruce and Natasha with him.  Clint looked hesitant for a moment, wincing as though he was contemplating if he was really ready for this.  Then he groaned and followed.

“Banner, you better get to work on designing a diaper that actually, you know, does its job.  We could make a fortune,” Tony called.  He grimaced, experimentally lifting his doused arm to his face.  “Ugh.  It smells, too.”

This was too much.  Steve couldn’t wrap his mind around it, couldn’t accept it, afraid that if he did, it would turn out to be a lie.  He couldn’t even begin to express how he felt.  “Tony,” he said when he finally managed to locate his voice and the wherewithal to actually speak.  “Tony, I don’t know what to say.  Are you sure?  I mean, I was ready to…  And now I…”

“Stop,” Tony said softly.  “This is what _you_ want.  Whatever problems we’re going to face, we’re going to get through them _together_.  We all kept saying it, but I don’t think we really knew what we were saying or what that meant.  So this is how it’s going to be.  She stays.  You raise her.  You live here, with her.  And you stay on as our leader.  You’re our captain.  And if she’s part of you, then she’s a part of us.”

The warmth and appreciation he felt for this man had never been so strong.  “Thanks,” he whispered.

Tony slung an arm over his shoulders, tugging him close for half of a back-slapping hug.  Embarrassed and so relieved, Steve wiped at his eyes.  “No problem,” Tony said lightly, brushing off the emotional moment.  “You make me cry again, and I swear…  Speaking of which, you still owe me.  Like so much.  You can’t even fathom.  You owe me _forever._ ”

He knew that.  Boy, did he ever.  “Yeah.”

“You can start by dry-cleaning my suit.”

Steve laughed.  “Sure.”

* * *

Stark Tower was quiet.  It was early Christmas morning, and most of its inhabitants were soundly sleeping.  Except for Steve.  And Sarah.  She had no concept of Santa Claus, no idea about the excitement and anticipation wrapped up in the moment, but she was still up long before the sun.  That was okay.  Steve had gotten what had felt like the best sleep of his life the last couple of nights, even if it was interrupted by the occasional bottle and diaper change.  He walked out into the darkened common room, Sarah in his arms, dressed in flannel pajama pants and a white undershirt.  The very first touches of dawn were filtering in through the expansive windows, pale and soft and unobtrusive, and they revealed a gentle cascade of snow.  Everywhere Pepper’s decorations festively adorned the room, tasteful and beautiful, garland and lights and tinsel and poinsettias.  The tree was brightly lit in the corner.  The pretty display of colorful lights refracted and reflected throughout the empty living area.  Well, almost empty.

Tony was sitting on the couch, staring at the tree, pensive and distant.  Steve took a step closer, not knowing if it was okay for him to interrupt his friend’s wool-gathering.  Everything still felt a little unreal, like it was too good to be true.  Steve didn’t doubt the team’s willingness to accept Sarah.  But, honestly, he was still a little afraid.  As much as he was happy, as much as he cherished and loved her, he knew this wasn’t going to be easy.  All of the fears that had led him to give Sarah up in the first place were still there.  There was no way to magically whisk them away.  His worries about getting hurt or worse and leaving her alone and afraid.  His worries about her health, about the problems she could develop.  His worries about being _both_ her father and Captain America.  He was going to have to find someone to take her when the calls came in for the Avengers to assemble.  He was going to have to balance SHIELD’s need of him with hers.  He was going to have to make so many changes, face so many hurdles, overcome obstacles.  All of those challenges were still there.  They just weren’t as daunting, made possible to conquer by strength of friendship and family.

And so much of that was emboldened and made possible by Tony’s support.  Steve wanted this.  He wanted to raise Sarah as his own.  But he didn’t want to lose Tony or the team in doing so.  The fact that he wouldn’t was comforting, a peaceful balm to his soul which had been fretting and dreading and aching since Fury had made that fateful announcement that Sarah was his daughter.  “Mornin’,” he quietly greeted.  Tony turned.  He had a cup of coffee in his hands.  He seemed a little tired and a little troubled.  Steve smiled softly.  “Wake up on the wrong side of the hangover?” he asked with a sly smile.

Tony gave him a withering look.  “Very funny.  I didn’t get that drunk.”

Last night’s dinner had gone on pretty late, filled with way too much good food, even more wine and liquor, and an abundance of happy spirits.  “You sure seemed it to me,” Steve said, coming around the couch.  He sat there, pulling Sarah’s bottle from the deep pocket of his pajama pants.  She was still in a sleeper from the night before, red and white and covered with candy canes.

“Yeah, well, you are a terrible judge of inebriation.  It has many levels.  I was buzzed, which is many steps away from intoxicated, which is many more steps away from drunk off my butt, which was where Clint was.  And Natasha, I think.  It’s always hard to tell with her.”  That was true enough.  “Want some coffee?”

“In a bit,” Steve said.  He got Sarah’s bottle in her mouth, and she began drinking and slurping happily, watching the tree with wide eyes.

They sat in companionable silence for a while, not burdened by the need for idle chit-chat, not uncomfortable at all.  Steve leaned back, settling Sarah against his chest and absently stroking her hair.  Tony slumped a little next to him.  “You know, Pepper’s right.  I’m not much of a fan of Christmas.”

“Really,” Steve said wryly.  “Couldn’t tell.”

Tony gave him another wan look.  “Snarky does not suit you.”  Steve appropriately wiped his smirk away and watched as Tony resumed staring at the tree.  Not darkly, but not entirely contentedly, either.  “I just… never got it, when I was a kid.  My dad was gone a lot.  Working.  He was always busy with Stark Industries and busy with SHIELD apparently.  Busy looking for you.”  He glanced at Steve out of the corner of his eye.  “Christmas was something extravagant, something he used for political or work-related ends when he bothered to care about it at all.  He made it seem like the family part of it was just a nuisance.  So I don’t have a whole lot of fond memories of coming down in the morning and finding a pile of gifts under the tree.  I mean, there was a pile, but that was it, you know.  Stuff.  No substance.  My mom tried, but…”  He trailed off.

Steve nodded sadly.  He released a long breath.  “My mom always tried, too, but I know what you mean.  I never met my father.  He was like… something like a ghost every Christmas, more so for her than for me.  We never had much of anything, but she always went out of her way to make sure she had _something_ to give me.  One time – um, I was eleven or twelve…  The Depression was making things tough.  Real tough.  So she gave me my dad’s old pocket watch.  He left it before he went overseas.  I didn’t think much of it first.  I mean, I was grateful, but I was a kid.  I wanted toys or at least new art supplies or something.  I didn’t realize for years what an important thing that was.  Kinda like having a part of him with me all the time.”  His eyes glazed as he thought about it.  That watch in the simple box, wrapped in brown paper.  He remembered the feel of it, so scuffed and dinged and not as shiny as it could have been.  He remembered the disappointment so clearly, the smile he managed to fake.  And he remembered the shine of grief in his mother’s eyes at letting the watch go, even to him.  He hadn’t understood that at the time, and the watch had spent most of the next few years under his bed until one day Bucky had had a heck of an argument with his own father, loud enough it nearly shook the apartment building.  It had been about school, about Bucky caring more about sports than his studies, about keeping up his marks and sticking with it.  It had been loud voices booming and hurtful words flying.  But it had ended as quickly as it had started, tempers spent and common sense winning the war, and Steve had watched as Bucky’s dad had hugged him tight and told him his life was too important to throw away on doing nothing and being nobody.  That he simply wanted everything he could for Bucky, _more_ than what he had and what he could give.  That night when he’d gone home to his own apartment, Steve had pulled out the watch, looking at it for the longest time and realizing that it wasn’t just an old, scraped up watch that hardly functioned.  It was his father’s legacy, in a way.  Wishes and hopes and dreams.

He’d kept it with him after that.  In the pocket of his trousers as he’d gone off to school, primary and high school and art school.  In his coat during the long, cold winters.  With him when he went to enlist, every time he’d tried in fact.  It was always on him, a source of comfort even if it didn’t tell time very well.  And when Doctor Erskine had taken him into the army for Project: Rebirth, he’d gone to the cemetery where his parents had been buried and left it at their gravestones.  He hadn’t needed it anymore.  It was a reminder of his father’s wish for him to grow up to be a good man, to fight for what was important and stand up for what he thought was right.  To be responsible and loyal and strong.  He hadn’t needed the watch because he knew what his father had wanted of him.  He knew it in his heart, then, now, and always.

Tony grunted, drawing Steve from his thoughts.  “I think that was one of the reasons I couldn’t take her away from you,” he admitted.  “How much I missed my old man.  How much I wanted him around.  For Christmas.  All the time, really.  How much I needed him.”  The quiet that came was deep and meaningful.  Tony looked at him with open eyes.  “Who was I to take her father from her?”

“You didn’t try to take anything, Tony,” Steve quickly corrected.

“Yeah, but I pressured you into doing something you didn’t want.”

“No, you didn’t.  You were looking out for me, same as you always do.  That’s it.”

Tony didn’t seem convinced, but he was trying to be.  “You think so?”

“Of course.  You’re you.”

Tony grunted at that and took a sip of his coffee.  “And you’re you and we’re both our father’s sons and all that jazz.  I guess that’s something Howard left me.  The capacity to be a good man and do the right thing on occasion.”  He cocked his head, staring at the tree again.  “That and a fortune and his brains.  Think he’d be proud seeing us working together like we do.”

Steve smiled.  “Yeah, he would be.”

After another quiet moment, Tony sat up with a grunt.  He wiped a hand down his face.  “Anyway, you should check under the tree.”

Steve couldn’t help his surprise.  “What?  Why?”  Tony smiled and cocked an eyebrow.  “You didn’t.”  Tony’s grin turned sneaky.  “I didn’t have time to…  Tony, I didn’t get you anything.”

“Eh.  Gimme the baby and go look.”

Steve hesitated a moment more, feeling increasingly ashamed that he _hadn’t_ gotten Tony a gift after everything the other man had done for him.  But Tony was only watching him expectantly, waiting for him to get a move on.  So he stood, handing Sarah to him (and he looked like he was regretting his rash decision for a moment but he took her and even kept the bottle in her mouth).  Then Steve padded over to the tree, narrowing his eyes as he searched the colorful lights and shadows beneath.  Sure enough, there was a flat, thin, rectangular package under the lowest boughs.  It was wrapped in sleek silver paper with a red bow expertly placed.  There was a tag attached to the bow with “Steve and Sarah” written on it in pretty penmanship.  He pulled the gift free and glanced back to Tony.  Tony rolled his eyes a little.  “Alright, so Pepper wrapped it.”

Steve rose from his crouch and headed back to the couch.  He sat next to Tony again, staring at the package in his hands uncertainly.  “You just want me to open it?”

“That is what one commonly does with a present.”

Steve pulled the bow off and ripped the wrapping free.  Inside was a simple manila folder.  Brow furrowed in conclusion, he opened it.  And went a little cold and fuzzy with shock.  “Tony, is this…  Is this legal?”

Tony shifted Sarah to his other side so he could lean closer.  He shrugged noncommittally, but that proud, scheming smile was still on his face.  “More or less.  Mostly more.  Extenuating circumstances and all.  Honestly, it would have been easier to just fake it, but I know you have this thing with following the rules, so I went through all the trouble of doing everything as much above the board as possible.  Granted, I had to flub a few things.  And I had to grease the wheels of bureaucracy a little.  Let’s just say that Stark Industries’ government contracts prove to be useful leverage sometimes.  And let’s just say Agent Jerk was right; there wasn’t much legal precedent for what needed to be done.  So I made some.”

“But how did you get SHIELD to–”

“Peace on earth and good will toward men,” Tony replied simply.  “Turns out Fury does have a heart under all that black leather and if-looks-could-kill mumbo jumbo.  Almost losing you the day before Thanksgiving stoked his own thankfulness to life.  He helped quite a bit to make this legal and binding.  The people at the Vital Records office for the State of New York were pretty shocked when the Director of SHIELD and Tony Stark showed up with the Governor’s blessing, let me tell you.”

Steve couldn’t believe it, leafing through the documents on his lap.  “This is…”  On top was paperwork for a birth certificate.  It looked completely official, with the state’s seal and the appropriate signatures and everything.  The name of the child was listed as “Sarah Margaret Rogers”.  Her date of birth had been estimated to be August 22nd, 2014.  Other information had been filled in, one of the doctors at SHIELD signing the document to certify Sarah’s birth.  The place where the mother’s name should have gone was noticeably empty, giving Steve momentary pause, but then he dug deeper.  There were other documents attached, DNA results and paternity testing that had been notarized and officially accepted as proof of parentage and citizenship by the government.  “When did you do all this?”

Tony flushed a little.  “I worked on it while I was building the list of potential parents.  You know, in case you chose this option.”

Steve couldn’t believe it.  “Geez, Tony, I don’t know–”

“What to say. Yep.”  Tony smiled, holding Sarah’s bottle with one hand and reaching into his shirt pocket with the other.  He pulled out a pen.  “Sign them and it’s done.”

Steve took the pen and found the places he needed to sign.  He did it without hesitation, writing his name very officially everywhere it was needed.  When he was finished, he handed the pen back to Tony and closed the folder and set it on the coffee table.  Tony smiled and tilted Sarah up a bit since she was done with her bottle.  “Say, ‘Merry Christmas, Daddy!’”

Steve laughed lightly.  “You’re incredible.”

“Nice of you to notice.”

“Thanks.  You have no idea how much I appreciate it.”

Tony beamed.  “No problem.”

“What do you want in return?”

Tony thought about it a moment, his callused fingers brushing over Sarah’s hair with increasing confidence and no shortage of affection.  “How about breakfast?”

“Sure.  Should we have JARVIS get everyone up for it?”

Tony thought about that, too, before looking back down at Sarah.  “Nah.  Let ’em sleep.”

Steve smiled, stood, and headed back toward the kitchen.  He heard Tony say, “J, Christmas tunes.  Low volume.”  Music filled the room, soft and sweet, some of the songs so traditional that Steve recognized them from back when and some new but no less welcomed.  He stopped at the breakfast bar where the carafe of coffee was waiting and poured himself a cup.  Then he leaned back against it, staring for a moment at the tree and at Tony holding Sarah and telling her all about some project on which he was presently working.  “And it’s gonna have thrusters.  Like _serious_ thrusters.  One step below rockets.  I’ve already installed them into the Mark Fifty.  Don’t tell your dad; he hates it when I beta-test the equipment out in the field.  But, honestly, where else can you get a really accurate read on things?  You don’t know how something’s going to hold up unless it’s out avengering with us.  By the way, and this is super important…  Who’s your favorite Avenger?  Can you say ‘Iron Man’?  Come on, kiddo, say it with me.  _Iron Man._ ”  Tony repeated it a few more times.  Sarah only gurgled and smiled at him, her hands stuffed into her mouth.  He sighed.  Steve grinned into his cup.  “We’ll work on it.”

The music swelled with cheer, with hope and peace and wishes for happy holidays and a wonderful new year.  Honestly, even though the song was supposed to be for the whole world and all of the people in it, Steve couldn’t help but think it was really just for him.  He had everything he wanted, everything he needed.  His daughter and his home and his friends and his new life.  Happiness.  This was the greatest gift he’d ever been given, knowing that he was exactly where he was meant to be, walking the very road he was meant to take.

**THE END**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, no way I was making him go through with it :-). Too sad and too hard and not how I wanted this to end. This was probably the fluffiest thing I have ever written. I hope you all enjoyed it. I really drew on my own experiences as a parent in this, all the excitement and the exhaustion and the worry and the joy, so hopefully the story rang true. Thanks to all my wonderful readers and reviewers for your support. This project was a bit different from my usual thing, so I really appreciated the interest. As always, special thanks to E, my beta-reader.
> 
> Come find me on [tumblr](http://thegraytigress.tumblr.com)!


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